The Sisterhood of the Washing Line

[kniteracy]

This morning, because I miss her and I hadn't in awhile, I phoned the Talis Fairy, who's busy settling into a new house and unpacking and getting used to a new layout rather than the house in Bristol she's lived in for some time.

I phoned ostensibly to thank her for a little packet of seeds she sent via bardling; they're made by Allinson and are a mixture of pumpkin, sesame, poppy, and some other kinda seed, used to flavour bread, and I used them the next time I made bread, and I loved them very much and so did everyone else who had some of that bread! But really, I just wanted to hear her musical voice and talk about life for a few minutes with a kindred spirit.

So I asked her how things were going, and things are going well, which was good to hear. And then she said, "To tell you the truth, I'm all excited about my new washing line!" She went on to tell me that she had a new, long washing line that stretched from the house to the kids' climber, and that she hadn't used her tumble dryer since they'd moved in, and it made her feel great to be hanging clothes out again, because the wind and the sunshine do all the work and it's just terrific that she hasn't been using the tumble dryer.

And you know, I was thrilled to hear it, because one of the new things I have in my life that's made things very happy and shiny is my new washing line, made by filceolaire for me during Saturday's cabling debacle. It attaches to both the back wall of the house and the back garden with pulleys, so I can hang laundry from the back stoop without going down the steep stairs into the shared garden which our downstairs neighbors have made so nice and I haven't touched ever. Since Saturday, I've been going through laundry like a house afire, except for those couple of rainy days we've had, and something that always felt like a chore to me when I was a kid now feels joyful and life-affirming.

My mother always preferred to hang clothes out, even after she got her first tumble dryer in the mid-70s. She said they smelled better. I suppose I knew somewhere in my heart that this was actually true, but in the US, the land of big tumble dryers, absolutely no time to mind washing, and heavily-perfumed fabric softener sheets, it just seemed easier to do it in the machine.

I talked the other day about the rain spell and putting laundry out and bringing it back in because of rain. But I didn't tell you the thing I discovered while hanging up that load of washing: this job is not a chore. I talked about hanging, then pulling back in, then discovering the rain had started. But what I didn't tell you was that the whole thing took about ten minutes. This morning, I hung that load of towels back out: they'd been on a rack in the bathroom and still weren't quite dry. About twenty minutes ago, I went out to the back stoop, pulled the already-dry towels off the line, and replaced them with a new load of clothes that I'd washed this morning. It took less than two hours for them to dry on the line. This job is not a chore, I thought, as I brough my towels in, towels that, yes, smell of English wind and English sun, which, I'm sorry y'all, is just really nice and those of you who haven't experienced it will just have to take my word for it.

I remember, in my early twenties, going through a department store with a friend who admitted she was embarrassed because she liked looking at refrigerators and other appliances. I remember replying that of course it was embarrassing: how dorky, to be interested in kitchen appliances. But I don't feel that way anymore, and I haven't for a long time. How ridiculous, I think, not to be interested in these things. Why wouldn't you care about your refrigerator? Why wouldn't you care about the smell of perfect, sun-blessed and air-dried laundry? Why wouldn't you jump up and down with joy for a new washing line, put up with love and care, and useful, useful, useful?

The Fairy said she liked imagining all the women, down through the ages, putting things out on the washing line. I leaned over my back stoop and saw rows and rows of washing lines, from my end of the street to the curve at the primary school. Some full, some empty. The garden walls are too high to converse over, I realised. But sometime in the past, I'm sure friendships and conversations aplenty were begun over the washing line, because I watched my mother do it in our back yard in South Carolina in the early 70s. It baffled me, in my 20s, when my 60something-year-old mother, who owned a perfectly good tumble dryer, would go out to the back yard with a load of washing every couple of days and hang it up if the weather was fine. She only used the tumble dryer if it was cold or rainy. "It's just better this way," she said. My mother, who hated to cook and never baked a loaf of bread, believed in the magic of wind and sun every bit as much as I do today when I pull that load of washing in off my spiffy new pulley-enabled washing line.

My conversation with the Talis Fairy moved on to other things, her house and all the beautiful spaces in it, our upcoming challenges, schools and children and the promise of sock patterns and hugs to come-- but right before we said goodbye, she said, "Hooray for the Sisterhood of the Washing Line."

I agree. Hooray for a mild late-summer day, hooray for wind and sun and the most beautiful light in the world (trust me on this).

Hooray for the Sisterhood of the Washing Line.

Comments

[silme.livejournal.com]

Oh, I just love hanging the clothes outside. As cooler temperatures approach or when I have to do laundry and it's raining, I wind up using the tumble dryer (except for last winter when it was broken for two months and the conservatory, thanks to a drying rack, places to hang things and a fan heater, became the drying room). However, whenever I can, I use the garden. It's something I appreciate about the summer holidays and not having to wait until the weekend to wash things. If I wake up and it's sunny, I'll pop a batch in the machine and hang 'em up. And it's great to hand wash items and not have to let them dry hanging into the tub -- just whisk them outside.

And no neighbours complaining, as in Doonesberry as few years ago, about covenants and house values! :)

[otherdeb.livejournal.com]

When I was a kid, the only "girl" chore I had (I got all the boy chores because I was older) was hanging out the washing. I sometimes miss it. Thank you for the trip down memory lane, and for the thoughts from the Talis Fairy on continuity and Tht Sisterhood of the Washing Line!

[guyelfkin.livejournal.com]

I've never had a tumble drier.

On the occasions I've not had accces to a washing machine so have used a launderette, I used the driers there, when I could afford it, because it's easier to take home dry clothes than wet ones...

We hang everything to dry - on airers and radiator rails inside mostly, but we have and use a washing line if its fine weather and we're there to keep an eye on it (it might rain if we leave it hanging while we're out and our garden is small and open to the street so, should some wierdo who wants to steal washing happen by, it's not very secure)

When I was a kid, in a house with a large kitchen, plenty of space for a tumble drier and a father who loved "gadgets" we never considered haiving a tumble drier. Despite my large mad rabbit haivgt the run of the garden adn a tendency to atack, we used the washing line in the garden to do what drying we could and hung it inside, on several lines over the bath, in wet weather.

Teddy

[smoooom.livejournal.com]

Washing lines, and appliances. Sigh. I remember we uesedto have a special stick to prop up the clothes line when I got to low. I guess it was called a clothes line prop. I think I may be homesick, thankyou for a post that awakened some wonderful memories.

[keristor.livejournal.com]

We never had a tumble dryer. Nor a washing machine. My mother had a gas-fired boiler which boiled whites (not 90 or 95 like modern machines do, it boiled them, fizz bubble over the edge and onto the floor) which had a hand-operated mangle on the back. You turned the screw thing on the top for the thickness of the washing (whether it was a single sheet, a double, etc.) and then you turned the crank at the side and fed the washing through it (ideally /not/ your fingers as well), and it squeezed the water out of the cloth. All over the floor again, because you'd forgotten to put the flap down which directed the water back into the boiler...

Did I mention that the kitchen floor got well washed those days?

"Delicates' (by definition anything which didn't like being boiled -- wool, colours, etc.) were done by hand. Rather a big temperature difference compared to now, boiling versus hand-hot where now most people put everything in on 50C because they all have artificial fibres. Boiling nylon or polyester is not good for it!

And then everything went out on the line. Sheets got folded, because the line wasn't long enough, so when the outside was mostly dry they were taken off and refolded to let the other parts dry (and as the smaller things dried faster there got to be more room on the line to unfold the sheets). If it was raining? Tough. Things still dripping were hung over the bath, otherwise they were put on clothes racks ("clothes horses", I have no idea where that term came from), and took ages.

And everyone did it. Particularly from the train you would see washing out in almost every garden. Even boys often did the washing, especially the heavy parts (and boy are totally soaked double sheets heavy! Blankets even worse), I know I did. Especially the mangling, which I loved, there was so much more feeling of power turning the crank and seeing the water come out (over the floor) than putting it in a spin-dryer. It was something I actually looked forward to in the holidays. Oh, of course I complained, that's what teenagers do if you tell them to do something, but really that mangle was wonderful. I could imagine that it was some of the nasty kids at school I was squishing *g*. They don't tell you that in psychology books...

Of course, there was a big cultural difference. In those days very few women worked full-time, so they could be in to take the washing off the line. I've never been able to do that, the probability of it staying dry from 8am until I get home at 7pm is not really good enough. So I use a laundry which has machines which do wash to 95C, and they dry and fold for me, and I pay them and I get to chat when I take and collect the washing, and they are nice people who I wouldn't have met otherwise. Which may be a dim echo of the fellowship of the washing line *g*...

[aunty_marion]

Ah, the nostalgia. We had a mangle, too, though it was connected to mum's old single-tub washer. It folded down inside for storage, and could be brought upright and locked into position for use and the water was supposed to go straight back into the washer. Yes, we used to fold and refold the sheets too, though Mum had two washing lines so usually sheets went on the longer one, pegged so they would billow out in the wind. And with a clothes prop to raise the line in the middle to catch the wind. I can't remember if that first machine actually heated the water itself or if you had to put boiling water in first. Then as it cooled down you could wash things that didn't need boiling.

Later on she got a two-tub - not actually a twin tub, it was a matching washer and spin dryer that clipped together, with a hose to send the water from the spinner back into the washer. We missed that mangle...

[telynor.livejournal.com]

I'm fairly sure that most women *did* work full time in those days. :-)

[keristor.livejournal.com]

:-P Thou knowest what I meant. They were not /out/ at work.

Actually, many of them didn't, or if they did it was their own choice. A lot of them were out at various meetings, for instance, there were a lot of outside and church activities. And some made up work, because they were 'houseproud' (the sort where yes, you could have eaten off the kitchen floor, but you didn't dare walk on it; or they wouldn't allow anyone else in /their/ kitchen so their children never learnt to cook or wash up or do the laundry, and then they complained about the work that the rest of the family would once have been happy to do).

[keristor.livejournal.com]

:-P Thou knowest what I meant. They were not /out/ at work.

Actually, many of them didn't work full-time in the home, or if they did it was their own choice. A lot of them were out at various meetings and events a lot of afternoons, for instance, there were a lot of outside and church activities. And some made up work, because they were 'houseproud' (the sort where yes, you could have eaten off the kitchen floor, but you didn't dare walk on it; or they wouldn't allow anyone else in /their/ kitchen at all so their children never learnt to cook or wash up or do the laundry, and then they complained about the work that the rest of the family would once have been happy to do).

And there was a lot of sharing. One might take the kids of a couple of other families, and another would bake and give the cakes around, and another would sew, etc., and next week it might be another way round. That's a lot less usual now, largely because people are out (when I had something delivered the guy had to go 6 doors up the road before he found someone in) and don't get to know each other.

[stevieannie.livejournal.com]

I'm a bad Annie. I like tumbledried clothes :-(

No matter how much softener I put in, the clothes always feel stiff when I bring them in off the line.

This doesn't sound like a big deal for anyone else... I think I am a wuss.

However, I do line-dry because I like the smell of the clothes and the fact that I just saved some money on the electric :-)

[keristor.livejournal.com]

Interesting, my mother always said the opposite that line-dried was more fluffy. Perhaps it's the BR excuse (wrong sort of wind on the line)? *g*
Certainly lack of wind will leave them stiff. (At least people don't starch shirts these days, they were really uncomfortable until they were "broken in" -- at which point you were supposed to change them because they looked wrinkled. Aaargh!)

[tigertoy.livejournal.com]

I'm with you; line-dried towels feel stiff and scratchy. I don't really have a choice, though; my washer broke down years ago, I got in the habit of doing my laundry at my mom's, and now I can't afford to buy a new one.

[aunty_marion]

The only solution I've ever found to scratchy towels is: DON'T use fabric conditioner (yes, really!), and DO iron them. For some reason, that makes a difference.

[msminlr.livejournal.com]

You can also do a "pop the whip" maneuver with them to break up the worst of the stiffness. Sometimes taking towels out of the dryer in the current apartment, if I'm distracted by something on the radio my hands will go into autopilot and 'snap' the towels.

When we lived in north Arkansas, I had space for a clothesline but really only hung out sheets, for the smell. Spin-dried towels ARE softer...

[catsittingstill.livejournal.com]

They are a little stiff if it wasn't windy when they dried. But they soften right up when you put them on, honest. In five minutes you won't be able to tell the difference. I kind of like the crisp feel when I just put them on--it feels "clean" to me.

But to each their own.

"Hooray for the Sisterhood of the Washing Line"

[tnatj.livejournal.com]

There is a song in that idea ... perhaps several ... I am sure of it, hanging out right now in the clothesline of our minds.

[bardling.livejournal.com]

Ayup, me too, sister! :)

Yes, tumble dryers are practical if it's rainy & you're busy/rarely home during day time, but from choice... I use a washing line, enjoy the satisfying task of hanging things straight enough to save on ironing & go for the sun & wind magic every time.

It's cheaper & more energy/environmentally efficient, too ;)

[hitchhiker.livejournal.com]

I feel nice and virtuous for not wasting electricity tumbledrying stuff, but I don't actually enjoy the hanging-out of clothes.

[vaurien.livejournal.com]

I'd have sworn Talis would have mentioned her dryer was both solar powered and wind powered. Not that I haven't had much bouncing on the subject myself. I think she's happy, which is a good thing (TM).

[telynor.livejournal.com]

She did indeed mention that; I just forgot to include it here. :-) It was fun to mutually bounce on a subject most people would think of as quite mundane.

[lothie.livejournal.com]

My mom did that too. Hm, wonder if we could rig a line on our patio.

[wytchchyld.livejournal.com]

My clothesline is in the space over the garage. I'm still not sure how I feel about this. Yeah, it gets the wind and doesn't get rain but on the other hand ... no sun. So I'm still divided on it. I think next spring I'm going to push harder to get it put up outside. Or put it up myself since I'll be living here when it goes up. Unlike this year. :)

[folkmew.livejournal.com]

I am tentatively a member of the sisterhood. I much prefer hanging it out and I really miss my nice big tree laundry hanger we had here at camp (which probably just needs fixing but...) On the other hand, I must admit that when it's 10 pm and you realize "oh crap, I was supposed to have washed the kids nap stuff for school tomorrow!" it's awfully nice to be able to toss it in the drier and have it ready in the morning. I've noticed that when I try to hang things to dry on the porch at camp (which is right off the lake and gets fantastic breezes) sometimes it is so humid that they take 2 days to really feel dry!

But yes, I love hanging stuff out to dry. I love the idea that I'm not using any energy but the sun and wind.

Now if we could just get our cars to burn biodiesel!! (Ed says our next car will run on biodiesel or at least be a hybrid). Hugs!

[carrielee.livejournal.com]

Reading your post this morning just made me smile. I remember living in Athens, GA and having my washing line on the front porch between the columns! We would laugh about how "country" we were, but I tell you what, no laundry dried in the machine ever comes close to line dried clothes. And towels! I love them off the line. You may have inspired me. I have a line in the basement here at the new house. I use it for towels and suits wet from the pool. I may just put it to more use. Or better yet, put a line out back.

Now if I could just get the image of my father hanging out his "whitey tighties" on his clothes line out of my head! Growing up "country" can be damaging.

[msminlr.livejournal.com]

Yeah; when we finally retire to Mississippi, I'm afraid I'm going to scandalize my husband by immediately rigging some sort of laundry-hanging line in the back yard. One at least USED to be able to get gizmos which folded up like a patio table umbrella (some of them even came with canvas covers, to double AS patio table umbrellas) but had clothesline rope courses strung between the vanes.

If all else fails, I can sink an eyebolt into the back of the garage and another into the storage shed and have enough line out to do the sheets...

[catsittingstill.livejournal.com]

I too am a fellow of the washing line. I too hear the call of sun and wind and scorn to pay the electric company for something the air will do for me for free. I like the way the clothes come off the line just a little crisp and easy to fold. They don't dry as fast in Tennessee as they did in Spokane or Amarillo, but I'm not usually in any hurry. And when I have to run and throw them hastily and disordered into the laundry basket, I'm not exactly pleased about it, but I feel a kinship with people through the ages who have to run bring their washing in before the rain.

Hooray for the clothesline!

[andpuff.livejournal.com]

When we first moved out to the country, the beloved -- who had never lived where she could hang out clothes -- wouldn't let me hang out her underwear because she didn't want the neighbours to see them. Our closest neighbour is just over half a kilometer away... she's over that now. Growing up, we lived on a corner lot, our laundry exposed to the street and the neighbourhood. When my grandmother got some very modern striped sheets for my bed, they were the talk of the block.

My dryer (circa 1979) is the last remaining appliance that came with the house and I use it primarily in winter for the sheets. Clothes are hung to dry in front of the wood stove, acting like a humidifier, but I draw the line at a wet king size sheet in my living room.

[msminlr.livejournal.com]

The drill on our clotheslines was, sheets and towels, shirts and slacks, went on the outer two lines of the array (generally 4 or 5 lines) and "unmentionables" went on the inner lines, where they had at least a LITTLE privacy. These were backyard lines, in a suburban subdivision.

I've been remembering the washer my mom had when I was around 5 or 6 years old. It ws one of the wringer-type (mangle, as the Brits have been naming it) but I don't recall it being a hand-cranked wringer. It was on a pivot, so the tub was loadable without it being in the way, and when it came time to wring out the load the mechanism was swung around and latched on the far side, which I guess engaged the gears to the motor. Mom had a sharpened broomstick-piece that she used to poke the clothes into the wringers, and the water just drained back into the tub of the washer while the wrung-out clothes slid into a basket set just-so beside the washer. I don't recall how the transition from sudsy water to rinse water was managed; I was too small to be allowed to help with anything at the top of the washer. I did monitor the items headed into the basket, to make sure everything went IN the basket instead of landing on the porch floor.

I was telling a friend at work about this discussion thread, and she got to reminiscing about stove-heated irons vs electric irons. I don't recall the stove-heated type (though I've seen them being used in domestic scenes in vintage movies) but I *DO* recall needing to use distilled water in the first steam iron Mom had, and the first one I got when I married.

[msminlr.livejournal.com]

I realize I forgot about pants-stretchers! Kids blue jeans and dads' twill work pants got hung out with metal frames wedged down the legs, to keep them from drying wrinkled.