As I was sitting in my backyard I started contemplating my clothesline and decided to sketch it in my journal. You see, I view my clothesline as a work of art. It's made of wood and slightly weathered. I know there are a lot of people out there who think of clotheslines as just a lot of work or, at the very least, an eyesore. And they are entitled to their opinions just as I'm entitled to mine.
I started wondering what it is that my clothesline stirs in me. I grew up in a charming Craftsman bungalow in Northern California in the 1950s and 60s. You could hang all the laundry standing in one place! It had a pulley system from the back porch to the other side of the yard. Hanging out the laundry was one of my responsibilities and one I loved. There was such a sense of peace and calmness that enveloped me as I went through the repetition of clipping on each clothespin just right. Then there was the sense of satisfaction as I looked at all the clothes lined up moving gently in the breeze. Taking them down was even better. I took the time to fold each one as I put it in the basket. I still do. So you see, I could never live in a place where clotheslines are forbidden, because for me my clothesline is another of life's little pleasures.