TREASURE HUNT

As a child, I lived with my grandparents. One of the first tasks I was given was to help take the clean clothes to the clothesline in the backyard.

My grandmother and I pulled the wet things out of the big willow basket, shook them and then pegged them up, end to end, to dry in the sun.

Then, when everything was dry, we put the sheets, pillowcases, my grandfather’s work clothes and the rest of the laundry, back into the basket for ironing day.

Growing up in the South, most of the time the chore wasn’t too unpleasant. But even the South gets a taste of winter, and some days were downright cold. On hot, humid, days, it took a long time for things to dry.

For many years my grandparents didn’t own a dryer because, to them, it was an unnecessary expense. Later, when they were older, they moved back to the community in which they had grown up, and rewarded themselves with a new electric dryer.

For the first time, when the weather was wet, the towels, my grandfather’s denims and other heavy things could dry indoors. But on pretty days, it was back outside. The dryer was empty and everything billowed on the line.

Times have changed. Most of us don’t consider a dryer as a luxury. I know I don’t. I use mine every day. But for some things, especially on those long, dry, summer days, nothing beats a clothesline.

I like to hang all my sheets and pillowcases out to dry and bleach in the sun. The same goes for my collection of vintage linens and clothing. Air drying is gentle and safer for many old fabrics.

Now, occasionally, my children accompany me outdoors and help me hang things on the line in my backyard.

I still associate the scent of line-dried linens with the big, soft, bed of my childhood. I hope that one day my children will hold a piece of fabric, infused with the perfume of fresh air and sunshine, to their faces and it will take them back as well.