It's just takes so long. First you have to sort it. Then you have to decided, "is it really worth it to wash those 5 white things by themselves, or should I just throw them in with the lightish darks?" Then you wash it, put it in the dryer, fold it all, and you still have to put it away. And by this time there is a whole new pile and you start all over again. It is quite maddening.
But now I have this clothesline. And I could look at it as one more thing added to the laundry list (ha!) but I don't. Because I am in love with my clothes line. I like taking the break to go outside to hang my clothes. I like the way they smell and the act of pinning them with the clothes pin. I confess, I feel quite virtuous as I do it. It is kind of meditative. Calming.
A friend of mine told me I was born in the wrong era. This was after I told her I can't wait to learn how to can and to try making my own pickles. She said I should have been born in the 50s. That is where she is wrong. My grandma was a housewife in the 50s. When her twins were in diapers, as well as her not quite 2 year old, she said she once looked out the window and saw more than 80 diapers on the line. I don't think she would describe the experience as calming. I am quite sure she would have gladly given up hanging clothes on the line and used my washer and dryer. I am the lucky one. I have a choice.
And right now I am choosing crunchy towels. James doesn't like it. He says the towels hurt his skin, and his clothes feel hard. But I like them warm from the sun, with bits of grass and leaves stuck to them. One more thing to love here at the homestead.