Early this morning I was out at the barn and happened to glance toward the house. Ephemeral sunshine was making misty raindrops shimmer in the still air. Then I turned around and saw only sunshine, and realized that I was standing just between sun and rain, beneath the exact edge of a cloud. "Bad day to hang out the laundry," I mumbled. "No, what the heck, it will dry half way at least," I thought again. So, not long afterwards, I trudged carefully up the slippery hill behind the house with a big basket of wet clothes.

The land rises sharply behind our house. Three tall firs and a lush red cedar tree stand along the ridge. These beautiful trees are gracious enough to support my long and very inelegant clothesline. Beyond them the land drops steeply into the deep stream gully. Alders, wild cherries, a sad incense cedar, and many snowberry bushes and sword ferns cling to the thin crumbly soil. This is our "wild area." The hill is an odd place to put a clothesline. Even in the height of summer it is partly shaded. In spring and fall the few hours of sunshine do not compensate for the damp vapors rising from the earth and laundry may take several days to dry. Still, I would not have my clothesline anywhere else, because the spot is so very beautiful. There is always some bird or chipmunk activity to spy on while pinning up the clothes. We have had evening grosbeaks nest in the firs. This fall we are seeing an unusual number of Steller's jays, and they are ever so busy flying from tree to tree proclaiming this to be an excellent acorn year. Acorns and bits of acorns litter the ground, carried from the trees along the driveway. It's easy to imagine some of the acorns will sprout, and oaks will grow and subtly alter the ecology of the wild area. Certain Douglas squirrels in the neighborhood are also calling out. Their calls are almost birdlike, and always seem distressed. Perhaps they want all the acorns for themselves.

If I face west, I can watch the clouds blow up the valley. In fact, the site catches every breeze, a good thing if you are stubborn enough to try to dry the laundry in the shade. If the sun shines this afternoon when I bring in the laundry, I will be treated to a really breathtaking sight. In the gully, partly in the streambed, there is a Lombardy poplar, planted by the man who built our house fifty-seven years ago. The tree must be seventy feet tall. It towers over every other tree in the wild area, and catches the afternoon sun. Green, gold and silver, the leaves tremble and shimmer as the branches sway in the afternoon wind. Mesmerized, I stare too long, and suddenly feel as if I am at sea, and the tree is the water, its waves dancing and crashing.

For me drying clothes in the open air is a deeply satisfying aesthetic experience, but it has its practical aspects as well. The alternative, a clothes dryer, is a huge energy hog, second only to an oven in power consumption. When winter comes, I will use a dryer, but only for the big items like sheets, towels and jeans. The rest I dry on racks in the upstairs hall. I have friends who air dry everything, winter and summer. We all know that we can achieve huge energy savings and reduce our greenhouse gas emissions by practicing more efficient use of our household appliances. Just think what energy savings there would be if everyone reduced or eliminated the use of clothes dryers. But is it possible? Our society is addicted to an appliance which was almost unheard of half a century ago, and which is really unnecessary for most people, most of the year. Take the dare. Buy some clothes racks, and if you don't already use one, fix yourself a clothesline next spring. You'll love those crisp sheets and "like ironed" shirts. And don't forget to put your clothesline in a pretty place. Have fun.