Norm - When I was little, my mother hung everything outside until winter came. Then things went up in the basement on little lines near the coal furnace. It was years before we were able to afford an electric dryer. Things hung outside still smell like "six years old, school has just let out, and the summer is ahead in all its glory."
Pags, IFPN - There's nothin like line dried washing. Why would anyone dry things any other way, given a choice? The smell is so much better than anything you can buy in a bottle, and with a good wind towels and sheets come up a treat.
I love the austerity and clarity of this poem.
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