Laundry on the Line

I marvel at the many old, weathered buildings around Saskatchewan.  I always wonder who lived in abandoned houses.  And, if the house could tell stories, what would we learn about the life it lived.  As a kid I was sometimes tasked with taking the laundry off of the line.  I hated, hated, hated doing it – likely because I’m a bit short . . . lol.  Thankfully, I didn’t have to hang up the wet and heavy clothes.  I remember that our laundry line was made out of telephone poles and scraps of wood.  The best part, though, was the fabulous smell and crispness of wind-dried laundry.  It was wonderful to get under sheets that were freshly dried on the clothesline. My grandpa was at the farm almost daily, and he generally suited up with striped grey coveralls and either a grey or blue-striped shirt. The laundry here pays homage to him.