Hanging out the wash.

I have so many memories of helping with the laundry as a young child. We didnt have a dryer and I used to hate it when it was one of my chores. I'd dawdle and play with the cats stretching the limits on the time I was allowed to leave my schoolwork. Grandma Spaid always had laundry hanging on her line. She only used the dryer when it was absolutely necessary. She taught me how to fold precisely, creating neat stacks in the basket right off the line. After all there was no practical sense in handling it twice and it gave you a few more moments outside. When I moved into my first house the clothes line was a definite plus, but I only used it when I had time. Spending most of my time in the barn created alot of laundry that was easier to stick in the dryer. The second house I lived in had no dryer but due to its location in the sunny south I could dry 3-4 loads of laundry in a day. When I started looking for a place near college I realized that a small yard and a clothesline were high on my priority list. So when I discovered that this place had both, I was thrilled. I couldn't wait to hang my laundry out once winter passed. It's funny how what used to be such drudgery now brings me so much joy.