We were taking a break yesterday when Mr. FixIt started reading a story in Goldenseal Magazine. The Goldenseal has been around since 1975 and is published four times a year. It has wonderful stories about traditional life in West Virginia. And, since I’m living a pretty traditional life, I really love that magazine. The story that caught Mr. FixIt’s attention was about a clothespin factory in Richwood, WV. That got me thinking about all the clotheslines of my life.

We always had clotheslines. The metal T-shaped poles were anchored in the ground with cement and lasted till they rusted through. We’d have to go out with a wire brush and a can of Rustoleum and paint them every other summer or so. Ours were always silver but the last time I painted them at the farm, I used black. I remember as a child, the clotheslines themselves were woven…a kind of rope-like material. Another was a thick aluminum wire that created a wiggly clothesline that never straightened out. Then, as we got older and the plastic generation set in, the lines were white, hollow tubes that pinched shut with the spring-hinged clothespins. Later came the plastic covered cable lines. Once we got away from the rope lines, you had to take a wet rag out and run it up and down the clothesline to clean them or else you got black stuff on your clean clothes. At least you did in the chemical-laden Mid-Ohio Valley where I grew up. (Our bare feet would be black with the fallout from Union Carbide!)

The early clothespins were the peg ones then came the clip on kind with the spring hinge. I liked the peg ones because I would pretend they were dolls. I’d dress them up with pieces of material from Grandma’s scrap bag. I’d draw faces on them and, if we had any glue around, I might even give them some yarn hair. We always had a clothespin bag that hung out on the clothesline. It had a hole in the side where you reached in and grabbed a few pins and stuck them in your mouth to use as you needed them. You had to watch because sometimes wasps, or even birds, would make nests in the bags.

When you finished hanging your laundry, the wet clothes often made the lines so heavy, they stretched down and the clothes brushed the ground. In order to keep your clothes clean, you used a long pole with a nail in the side near one end and hooked up you clothesline, propping it up high. Hanging clothes in Colorado was awesome because it’s so dry there, a load would be ready to bring in, fold, and put away in an hour or two. Not so in West Virginia. The humidity of summer would make laundry turn into an all-day affair. And you’d better not get distracted and let the rain get on them or leave them out too late till they gathered the dew or you’d be doing the same clothes over the next day.

Clothes that are hung dry aren’t nice and soft like the ones that come out of a dryer. They are stiff and scratchy. I hated to use towels that dried on the line. But sheets dried in the sun are heavenly! They smell so wonderful…like sunshine and Ivory Snow. Men wore work clothes when I grew up. Khaki, green, or blue…heavy cotton twill. They had to be put on wire pants stretchers to put a crease in them. That made ironing easier because most of the wrinkles were flattened out. Yes…I said ironing. Most of you have done exactly what I’m talking about. But some may not have, so I’ll continue.

Ironing. The BANE of my existence as a child. My mom worked outside of the home once I was in school, so as soon as we were old enough to stay home alone, laundry and cooking and cleaning house became my daily routine. We didn’t have the luxury of using a dryer routinely. It was only used during the winter or very rainy days. All other times, Dad’s work clothes, our dresses, and my brother’s shirts and trousers had to be ironed. We had a “sprinkler”…a water bottle with a small perforated head on it that we would sprinkle the clothes if they were very dry and stiff. Then we would fold them, put them in a bushel basket with an oilcloth liner to hold in the moisture, cover them with a towel and come back to them an hour or so later. Before I came along, starch had to be cooked and added to the rinse water to give clothes a really crisp finish and nice, sharp creases. Once I was old enough to iron, we had spray starch in cans.

Who remembers the load you forgot in the washer for a day or two? Oh, that smelled SO bad and you would often get mildew stains that never came out, no matter how hard you scrubbed. You were in big trouble if you forgot a load and ruined clothes.

Grandma had wringer washers. I loved them, but I was not allowed to use them when I was little. They were dangerous because you could get your hand caught in them and get hurt. I remember how excited grandma was when my uncle brought her a good wringer washer…long after she had an automatic set in the bathroom. She missed the old way. She thought it cleaned better. I’d love to have a good wringer washer but the water in the basement doesn’t work like it used too. Too many years of hard water corroding those old pipes. I’d be afraid the spigot would break off in my hand.

I still have my mom’s clothespins. They are in a copper bucket I bought many years ago. I put it on top of the jelly cupboard here at the farm. Mom’s pins got mixed up with my own, but I can pretty much tell which ones I used as a child. I found Grandma’s clothespin bag hanging in the stairwell going down into the basement so I hung it in the kitchen on a child’s wooden coat hanger I found in an antique store last year. I think this is why I love Rural King so much. They carry so many things that we used “back in the day”. It reminds me of “simpler times”, even though we worked harder. Not nearly as hard as my grandparents, but certainly harder than the average kids of today.

The last picture is the clothesline in the backyard in front of the hydrangea bush. You can see a couple old clothespins…weathered and nearly deteriorated to slivers. I won’t remove them. Maybe my grandma left them there when she brought in a dish towel or two…or something she rinsed out by hand. Surely my Uncle Bob had cleaned the line with an old rag. I’m sentimental about things. There are clotheslines along the side of the house. There’s one on the front porch and one on the back for hanging things when it’s raining. Then there’s this one that runs from the back porch to the cherry tree. That one I don’t use. That one reminds me…of my loved ones long since gone. Of the halcyon days of summer when I thought life was SO hard because I had to hang clothes and iron and cook supper for my family. Of the “Good Ol’ Days”. ❤️

“The soul of the sluggard craves and gets nothing, while the soul of the diligent is richly supplied.”
‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭13:4‬ ‭ESV‬‬