laundry painted golden by the sunset
I treasure my clothesline, the mere sight of clean clothes waving in a breeze, the smell of cleanness (and perhaps a drop of essential oil for the joy of it) and the feel of damp and cool hands while hanging up the clothes makes me feel at peace.
Queen Anne's Lace through towel
My clotheslines stretches between a couple of old apple trees, to a giant willow tree and to the back of a shed that houses our chickens. I have to walk through the entire garden and through a hedge to get there. It's like walking into some shadowy, private place, and even though I sometimes postpone my »visits« there, I always have this feeling of settling down and enjoying the task.
vintage, apples & sunset
I'm perfectly happy being the owner of an full automatic washing machine. I often think of my grand mother not having one, being a mother of four when disposable diapers wasn't an option. Even my own mother didn't have a washing machine when my brother an I was in the diapering age. She had a big pot for diapers and had to wash every other day, stirring and boiling.
Being a task of free will, I am happy to wash clothes by hand. Especially wool and silks. Washing by hand is something children of all ages enjoy, and it is quite a popular occupation in my home. I've placed some washbowls and some washboards and a small drying rack on my terrace, and a lot of washing is taking place outside in the sun.