Early American Clothes Dryer

They come in many shapes and sizes. My grandparents had one under their carport and a second stretched between the fence and garage in their backyard. A friend has a square, two-tiered one on a pole. My first was made of two wooden Ts with four green lines stretched between them. While most people call them clotheslines, they will forever be the Early American Clothes Dryer to me.

My mom preferred to use the Early American Clothes Dryer when the weather allowed. This is her name for the clothesline. Our line stretched along a line of shade trees in a portion of our yard that mom called the “back 40”. While growing up, Saturdays involved hanging towels, T-shirts, shorts, and sheets on the line. When I was very young and too short to reach the lines, I “helped” by sitting in a folding chair and talking to my mom, watching her pin our clothes up to dry in the summer breeze.

I assisted with hanging out the wash when I was older and taller. I learned the importance of wiping down the lines before hanging anything. I discovered the joy of falling asleep in a bed made from clean, line-dried sheets. I learned how to stack towels, pillowcases, and T-shirts to maximize the space on the line and hang as many items as possible using the fewest clothespins. I preferred the pins with a spring hinge over the solid wooden ones because they hold the clothes more securely.

March 1986 – Me and my cat, Tabby, “helping” mom hang laundry to dry.

I developed my cardiovascular system by dashing up the stairs and across the lawn to strip the lines during pop-up rain storms. I would quickly shake ladybugs and butterflies from the towels and pants before stuffing them in a wicker basket and rushing them into the house. Sometimes, we missed the sound of the rain on the tin roof and left the clothes for Mother Nature to wash and dry overnight.

These were simple moments in my youth, but the joy remains. The feel of the grass, clover, and violets between my toes and my orange Tabby curled up in my lap linger 30 years later. The weight of the clothes basket on my hip and the rough texture of a line-dried towel are the sensations of my childhood—a time when laundry and connection went together.

Two of my adult homes have Early American Clothes Dryers, which I have used whenever possible. As the Minnesota days warm, I am excited about the smell and feel of sun-dried sheets as I fall asleep. It’s a reminder of those Saturdays of my youth when doing laundry meant time in nature and a connection with my mom.