I watched as Granny hung each garment on the clothesline. The sun was shining so bright I had to squint my eyes. Papa's old flannel shirts flapped in the breeze beside Granny's flowered house coats.
There was something magical about that clothesline to me. I was intrigued by the simpleness of it. No whirring of the dryer. The clothes became drier as the day wore on. The next day, Granny would take her brown clothes basket to gather the clothes. One by one, she slipped the clothes pins off. It was almost as if she had her own rhythm.
I stopped at the sliding glass door, lost in my own thoughts. That old clothesline had been in the backyard for years. The rough hewn posts were sturdy and solid. They told their own story, marked by the pelting rain and other elements.
I hurried inside as Granny came in. I grabbed a shirt and pressed it to my face. The smell of freshly cleaned clothes was intoxicating.
Now, most of us use washing machines. I still remember that clothesline and am overcome by feelings of nostaglia. It is a reminder of how quickly times change.
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Image Credit: Microsoft Office Clip Art I haven't had a chance to get a real picture of my Granny's clothesline. Depending on the weather today, I may be able to get one of the real thing.
3 comments:
My grandma had a clothes line in her backyard for years. I can't remember if she ever used it or not but I do remember the way her towels and sheets smelled. Thank you for sharing this wonderful memory. XOXO
Grandmother's clothes line!!Too cute!!!
What a beautiful memory. I know that rhythm. I have been doing that same dance since living with my grandmother. Her apartment doesn't have a dryer hook up, so clothes are dried out on the line. It really is a timeless, peaceful experience.
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