Serenity and the Laundry Line
by Josephine Laing
A good cotton rope is sometimes hard to find, but nothing makes a better clothesline. And stepping out into the yard on one of these warm summer nights with my kitty by my side and a wicker basket full of clean wash brings me to a place of simple joy, lying the cloth out smoothly on the line. The soft creaks of the dried cordage of the basket, the near mystifying art of basketry itself, the happy sounds of our young neighbors, humans, possums and raccoons, as they all settle in for the evening, calm my mind and ease me into a sense of rightness with the world.
Whereas every time I turn on the dryer, I think of the polar bears out there swimming. They are really great swimmers and can actually swim for two hundred miles. Can you imagine and in that freezing water? And sometimes their older cubs can cover great distances like that also. The drive down to my dad's house in L.A. was two hundred and twelve miles and took us about four hours on the highway whisking along at freeway speed. It's a long ways. I really can't fathom swimming that far without a break, and I'm a good swimmer, having grown up on a lake.
But that's what the bears do, looking for an ice flow to haul out on. The sad part is, as of course you already know, those ice flows are rapidly becoming progressively fewer and farther between. I recently read about one mother bear who actually swam for four hundred miles until she found an ice berg. It's a near incomprehensible master piece of physical ability and she made it, despite the certain grief of having lost her cub along the way.
I understand that our clothes dryers are one of the largest domestic sources of energy use that contribute to human related aspects of climate change. So though I have one and I do use it on occasion, mostly it sits idle.
About ten years ago, for my birthday, Frank got me one of those totally great all wooden folding drying racks. You see them in catalogues like Gaiam Real Goods or Vermont Country Store. Mine is very light weight. Even when it's full of laundry I can easily collapse it and carry it by myself. When it's done it's job, it folds up and slips into a small space along the side of my linen closet. It's a great solution for rainy days and also for those who need to use a wheel chair or who can't do a lot of bending and reaching.
And people even hang laundry in the frozen arctic climates. I remember seeing a documentary where one woman living in a remote cabin, off the grid, in Alaska went out to her clothesline and brought in her freeze dried frozen solid blue jeans. She whisked the fine patina of ice crystals off their surfaces and then laid them over chairs inside near the fire for the final stretch of drying. How great is that! Freezing the moisture out.
One of the bio-markers of aging is not being able to stand while holding one foot up off the ground and then lifting the opposite arm straight up over head. Bending and reaching with my basket and line, stretching and often balancing to place a pin, stepping up and down off of my well placed concrete blocks to reach the taller end points of the line, listening to the birds and feeling the warming sun by day or hearing the frogs sing for their mates and enjoying the cool night air not only helps to keep me limber and young, but calms my mind and gives me an opportunity to be alone with my thoughts, humming a simple tune. It all reassures me of my place in the world.
And the kitty loves it when I join her in the great outdoors. She sniffs the cool clean wash and shows off, displaying for me her many skills, climbing the posts and walking along the top of the fence line. All of those clothes hanging straight and smooth rarely need to see the touch of an iron. And when the line is sagging, even groaning occasionally as it's burden shifts with new additions, I feel the satisfaction of a job well done. Then the kitty hops into my empty basket ready for her wiggly, wobbly ride back into the house, and in this simple yet lovely act, we reclaim so much for ourselves and our world. So here's three cheers for a good cotton rope and a pot full of nice wooden clothespins!
© 2011 Josephine Laing
A good cotton rope is sometimes hard to find, but nothing makes a better clothesline. And stepping out into the yard on one of these warm summer nights with my kitty by my side and a wicker basket full of clean wash brings me to a place of simple joy, lying the cloth out smoothly on the line. The soft creaks of the dried cordage of the basket, the near mystifying art of basketry itself, the happy sounds of our young neighbors, humans, possums and raccoons, as they all settle in for the evening, calm my mind and ease me into a sense of rightness with the world.
Whereas every time I turn on the dryer, I think of the polar bears out there swimming. They are really great swimmers and can actually swim for two hundred miles. Can you imagine and in that freezing water? And sometimes their older cubs can cover great distances like that also. The drive down to my dad's house in L.A. was two hundred and twelve miles and took us about four hours on the highway whisking along at freeway speed. It's a long ways. I really can't fathom swimming that far without a break, and I'm a good swimmer, having grown up on a lake.
But that's what the bears do, looking for an ice flow to haul out on. The sad part is, as of course you already know, those ice flows are rapidly becoming progressively fewer and farther between. I recently read about one mother bear who actually swam for four hundred miles until she found an ice berg. It's a near incomprehensible master piece of physical ability and she made it, despite the certain grief of having lost her cub along the way.
I understand that our clothes dryers are one of the largest domestic sources of energy use that contribute to human related aspects of climate change. So though I have one and I do use it on occasion, mostly it sits idle.
About ten years ago, for my birthday, Frank got me one of those totally great all wooden folding drying racks. You see them in catalogues like Gaiam Real Goods or Vermont Country Store. Mine is very light weight. Even when it's full of laundry I can easily collapse it and carry it by myself. When it's done it's job, it folds up and slips into a small space along the side of my linen closet. It's a great solution for rainy days and also for those who need to use a wheel chair or who can't do a lot of bending and reaching.
And people even hang laundry in the frozen arctic climates. I remember seeing a documentary where one woman living in a remote cabin, off the grid, in Alaska went out to her clothesline and brought in her freeze dried frozen solid blue jeans. She whisked the fine patina of ice crystals off their surfaces and then laid them over chairs inside near the fire for the final stretch of drying. How great is that! Freezing the moisture out.
One of the bio-markers of aging is not being able to stand while holding one foot up off the ground and then lifting the opposite arm straight up over head. Bending and reaching with my basket and line, stretching and often balancing to place a pin, stepping up and down off of my well placed concrete blocks to reach the taller end points of the line, listening to the birds and feeling the warming sun by day or hearing the frogs sing for their mates and enjoying the cool night air not only helps to keep me limber and young, but calms my mind and gives me an opportunity to be alone with my thoughts, humming a simple tune. It all reassures me of my place in the world.
And the kitty loves it when I join her in the great outdoors. She sniffs the cool clean wash and shows off, displaying for me her many skills, climbing the posts and walking along the top of the fence line. All of those clothes hanging straight and smooth rarely need to see the touch of an iron. And when the line is sagging, even groaning occasionally as it's burden shifts with new additions, I feel the satisfaction of a job well done. Then the kitty hops into my empty basket ready for her wiggly, wobbly ride back into the house, and in this simple yet lovely act, we reclaim so much for ourselves and our world. So here's three cheers for a good cotton rope and a pot full of nice wooden clothespins!
© 2011 Josephine Laing