Tennyson wrote, “In the Spring, a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love”, but he could have written, “In the late Spring, an older woman’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of washing lines”. [‘Washing in the Wind’, Joan Eardley] When we got married, my late brother gave what would have been the father-of-the-bride’s speech. He claimed that, coming from the North but having moved to Surrey, we had now joined the ‘gin-and-Jag’ set. ‘Next thing you know’, he said, ‘they’ll be getting a rotary washing line!’.
As someone who has a Pinterest page full of washing lines this ticks all my boxes! Can’t ever imagine living somewhere where I couldn’t hang washing out. as few things please me more. (Yesterday was a good day here as I ‘double lined’ - result!) Thank you for making this Sunday start with a smile on my face ☺️
One of the joys of living in the country (US, nearest neighbor is three glorious miles) is my clothes line. It went up almost before the bed when I moved here 30 years ago. I feel about it as I do about not owning a dishwasher: using my hands to engage the chore makes time to ponder or dream… Here’s to all of those who know the magic that such a seemingly mundane task brings…. And to the fabulous art that shows it’s sacredness!
You would love Orkney, where I live. It is so windy here that we have to buy extra strong ‘storm’ pegs for our washing lines. Everybody hangs their washing out here - even in winter it dries so quickly as the wind is ever-present.
Childhood memories of lines of washing billowing in the back street & helping Mum fold the sheets before they dragged on the ground.
I have given up my rotary & gone back to a line. My favourite night is climbing into 1000 count cotton, line-dried, freshly ironed bedding. (My Desert Island Disc luxury).
Funny to read this in my mother's Paris apartment, while waiting (indefinitely it seems) for a new clothes-dryer to be delivered. At the age of 92, ever more sensitive to touch , she isn't a big fan of crisp bed linen and night clothes. But for now, every other horizontal surface, chair back, etc, has been serving as an emergency clothes line. It could make for a striking Bonnard composition!
I think this is one of my favourites among your posts! The line from Hockney's mother is priceless, and I'm completely with you on fabric softener. Crispy towels all the way!
Delightful post! I love crispy towels--growing up my mom hung everything out. A little bit of an anomaly in suburban Long Island, but it smelled so fresh. Today in Brooklyn there are lots and lots of line poles--but few lines. The Sloan painting looking very Brooklyn to me.
I love this!! Our over-grown town garden is crisscrossed by our washing line and I really like it that way. A friend of mine told me that her artist mother-in-law once commented that the 'washing line is iconic' (implication being that the rotary dryer is... not) so if I hang out a satisfying wash of billowy sheets or a pleasing run of stripey t-shirts, I quite often think "Ah... iconic!' Small pleasures!!
And the total amazement of moving to Northern Virginia for a few years and discovering that my washing machine was on the top (third) floor of the house - a long way to carry wet laundry down to the ‘back yard’ . Only to find out it was illegal to hang out washing - or, indeed, have a garden shed. Broke local neighbourhood /neighborhood regulations. So a utility room up on that bedroom storey then made total sense.
I’m now safely back in Blighty. Regular dancing clothes now. And oh the joy of hanging in colour order. You DO do that, don’t you? Whites together, blues together …. The delight of small joys entrancing the heart every time there’s a quick glance towards the garden.
Oh, this is wonderful, thank you so much. As a small child I discovered a perfect world by slipping inside the pegged up damp sheets folded over the line. It was easiest to get in near the prop and I liked to cool down on hot days, daydreaming in the golden light, watching the shadows dance about.
As a child we lived in Kent where the washing lines were hoisted up on a pulley at each end, to the height of the first floor. I loved hanging out the washing and then lifting the line up high! I have never seen that arrangement anywhere else.
Thank you, thank you, Jane. Someone needed to give honest and heartfelt credence to the timeless, beautiful and worthy meditation of hanging out the clothes. I am forever grateful to my South African mother-in-law who gifted me, a young American newlywed, this unknown clothes drying option. I was intrigued, curious, committed and now 40 years later, have never looked back. It truly is one of life’s simple pleasures.
Great article. Couldn't agree more about the horror of rotary lines. I love my 'proper' line and have it double some days strung around the vegetable garden. It's a joy to use and ridiculously satisfying to bring in a batch of sun dried washing. The ironing is a pain but you can't have everything, I try not to do much and have trained my other half to do his own! The paintings you've chosen are superb!
I have painted a rotary washing line and it features in the June section of my book A Year Around Our House (Persephone Post March 2019).
That washing line was outside the back door of our lovely old house in Somerset, on gravel, and only caught the evening sun, but it was a windy spot. We now live in south-west France and I have at last, at the bottom of our long town garden, a proper washing line strung between the huge magnolia tree and the terracotta tile topped garden wall. It’s over grass - my great aunt said her mother always said washing dried better over grass.
I think we're all in agreement...this was a lovely piece for a bright, breezy Sunday morning. Made me smile. 😊
As someone who has a Pinterest page full of washing lines this ticks all my boxes! Can’t ever imagine living somewhere where I couldn’t hang washing out. as few things please me more. (Yesterday was a good day here as I ‘double lined’ - result!) Thank you for making this Sunday start with a smile on my face ☺️
One of the joys of living in the country (US, nearest neighbor is three glorious miles) is my clothes line. It went up almost before the bed when I moved here 30 years ago. I feel about it as I do about not owning a dishwasher: using my hands to engage the chore makes time to ponder or dream… Here’s to all of those who know the magic that such a seemingly mundane task brings…. And to the fabulous art that shows it’s sacredness!
You would love Orkney, where I live. It is so windy here that we have to buy extra strong ‘storm’ pegs for our washing lines. Everybody hangs their washing out here - even in winter it dries so quickly as the wind is ever-present.
Childhood memories of lines of washing billowing in the back street & helping Mum fold the sheets before they dragged on the ground.
I have given up my rotary & gone back to a line. My favourite night is climbing into 1000 count cotton, line-dried, freshly ironed bedding. (My Desert Island Disc luxury).
Your post sang to my heart.
Funny to read this in my mother's Paris apartment, while waiting (indefinitely it seems) for a new clothes-dryer to be delivered. At the age of 92, ever more sensitive to touch , she isn't a big fan of crisp bed linen and night clothes. But for now, every other horizontal surface, chair back, etc, has been serving as an emergency clothes line. It could make for a striking Bonnard composition!
I think this is one of my favourites among your posts! The line from Hockney's mother is priceless, and I'm completely with you on fabric softener. Crispy towels all the way!
Delightful post! I love crispy towels--growing up my mom hung everything out. A little bit of an anomaly in suburban Long Island, but it smelled so fresh. Today in Brooklyn there are lots and lots of line poles--but few lines. The Sloan painting looking very Brooklyn to me.
I love this!! Our over-grown town garden is crisscrossed by our washing line and I really like it that way. A friend of mine told me that her artist mother-in-law once commented that the 'washing line is iconic' (implication being that the rotary dryer is... not) so if I hang out a satisfying wash of billowy sheets or a pleasing run of stripey t-shirts, I quite often think "Ah... iconic!' Small pleasures!!
Oh! Yes! This!
And the total amazement of moving to Northern Virginia for a few years and discovering that my washing machine was on the top (third) floor of the house - a long way to carry wet laundry down to the ‘back yard’ . Only to find out it was illegal to hang out washing - or, indeed, have a garden shed. Broke local neighbourhood /neighborhood regulations. So a utility room up on that bedroom storey then made total sense.
I’m now safely back in Blighty. Regular dancing clothes now. And oh the joy of hanging in colour order. You DO do that, don’t you? Whites together, blues together …. The delight of small joys entrancing the heart every time there’s a quick glance towards the garden.
And its shed.
Oh, this is wonderful, thank you so much. As a small child I discovered a perfect world by slipping inside the pegged up damp sheets folded over the line. It was easiest to get in near the prop and I liked to cool down on hot days, daydreaming in the golden light, watching the shadows dance about.
As a child we lived in Kent where the washing lines were hoisted up on a pulley at each end, to the height of the first floor. I loved hanging out the washing and then lifting the line up high! I have never seen that arrangement anywhere else.
Thank you, thank you, Jane. Someone needed to give honest and heartfelt credence to the timeless, beautiful and worthy meditation of hanging out the clothes. I am forever grateful to my South African mother-in-law who gifted me, a young American newlywed, this unknown clothes drying option. I was intrigued, curious, committed and now 40 years later, have never looked back. It truly is one of life’s simple pleasures.
Great article. Couldn't agree more about the horror of rotary lines. I love my 'proper' line and have it double some days strung around the vegetable garden. It's a joy to use and ridiculously satisfying to bring in a batch of sun dried washing. The ironing is a pain but you can't have everything, I try not to do much and have trained my other half to do his own! The paintings you've chosen are superb!
I have painted a rotary washing line and it features in the June section of my book A Year Around Our House (Persephone Post March 2019).
That washing line was outside the back door of our lovely old house in Somerset, on gravel, and only caught the evening sun, but it was a windy spot. We now live in south-west France and I have at last, at the bottom of our long town garden, a proper washing line strung between the huge magnolia tree and the terracotta tile topped garden wall. It’s over grass - my great aunt said her mother always said washing dried better over grass.
Your post is wonderful - I've found my tribe!
What a wonderful piece. Ah that smell!
And I had no idea there were so many washing lines in art.