I hung my laundry on the line today. I could tell I'd been using the dryer all winter because it took me forever to get it all hung up. So long, in fact, that by the time I'd filled the lines, the first clothes I'd hung were already dry.
It wasn't just my slow speed though. It was warm--79 degrees--and windy. I had a Little House on the Prairie moment while I was working. There are no houses behind us, only fields, and a mile or so away some trees. With the wind blowing my hair and whipping the clothes around, with the shadows of the clouds moving over the ground as they covered and uncovered the sun, looking across the empty land, I felt a little bit like Laura Ingles. And I liked it.