It started with a sturdy cotton rope and a couple of screw in hooks. As I pulled the line taught, tying it as tight as I could, I had no idea how these simple tools would change me. At first, I thought it was going to pull my own inward line too tight, add too much work to an already frazzled schedule of parenting and homeschooling five kids. All of which are under the age of eight and generate a lot of laundry. I was nervous and apprehensive.
Which is how many things seem at first when they're new, untried, fresh.
I pulled the damp load of laundry out of the washer, slung it in a basket and brought my little tote of clips outside in the sweltering Florida sun to hang my very first load of laundry. One by one, I hung my cloth diapers on the line. I was skeptical at first, thinking my new idea wouldn't last. But, as I moved and flowed with the rhythm of hanging our belongings outside to dry, I didn't feel the work. I didn't notice the time. Tension, I hadn't realized I held, eased. I relaxed and enjoyed the motions, letting my mind drift where it would.










I took this photo about a year ago and posted it to my blog, not long after hanging my two vintage retractable clothes lines. I was happy to start drying my clothes outdoors, and actually, was pretty nostalgic about the whole thing. I snapped the photo of my daughter playing peek-a-boo in the sheets, remembering doing the same as a child. I wanted to be more environmentally responsible, but was this more than I could handle? I had my lists of pros and cons and the dryer seemed a tough nemesis to beat. I was at the beginning of a new habit, wondering if I could stick to it, or if the burning Texas sun would force me to chicken out.

