Hanging out clothes

This picture showed up on Facebook last week.  I wish I knew who it belonged to so that I could give them credit.  It is a wonderful picture.

This could be my mama in her young years.  The women of her generation never wore pants, even on the coldest days.  They always wore the apron, too, and would have been lost without it.

The long pole in the center was to prop the clothesline up after the laundry was hung out to catch the best breezes and to get the laundry high enough to avoid animals and children.   It was built nearer to the house than the garden spot and the chicken pen.

This woman must have had her mother or mother-in-law living with her; there is no way she could worn  those enormous panties handing on the line.  We had a young man in our neighborhood who had to bring in the dry laundry sometimes; he would leave the panties hanging on the line in order not to defile his manhood.

It was one of our first chores, as soon as we were tall enough to remove the clothes pins.  I didn't enjoy it then, of course, it would have been wrong to enjoy anything that we were made to do.  Now, it might be kind of nice. 

I love sleeping on linens that still have the sunshine smell in them. Especially in October.