Hanging Out to Dry

It was a perfect spring today. Lots of sunshine, a slight breeze and a blue sky made me think about hanging wash out to dry. At my grandmother’s house in Pennsylvania, it was one of the few chores that I really enjoyed. Fighting stiff sheets in the breeze while trying not to swallow the wooden clothespins grew into a talent. I loved grabbing the pins and stuffing them into the swinging bag. My cousins and I would race to the finish. In Manhattan, we had a clothesline strung from our fifth floor apartment across the airshaft to a friend’s apartment in the opposite building.The clothes dried, but not much could be said for their cleanliness, and if you missed grabbing a pair of underwear, they were lost forever. To my knowledge, no one had ever safely navigated the bottom of the air shaft. It would be like an archeological dig.These photos taken at the children’s garden in the Memphis Botanic Garden sum up the experience and beauty for me. I think we’d help ourselves and our planet if we resurrected wash lines.