Reflections on Mom and the Right to Dry

My sister and I often comment about our mother's lessons she taught 6 children. One I thought of today, while the sky was sunny and the wind light but constant, was how to hang clothes on the line. While growing up, we had an aluminum 4-sided one, maybe collapsible contraption. I don't remember for sure because it was always up.  For awhile, we attended Catholic school - wearing white shirts before permanent press, handkerchiefs, navy blue pants or jumpers. I think I remember one of the winter chores was to shovel a path clear of snow to the line, the resulting stiff boards of hung clothing is another story... I digress.
Starting on the inside, one hung the more intimate garments - underwear and socks. I think the idea was to not offend your neighbors with those intimate items flapping in their faces. Moving outwards from the center, you hung groups of clothing - all the shirts, upside down, all the jeans and pants. It would look better if the display went from the smallest sizes to the larger. Then came the facecloths, hand towels and bath towels. Another method was to differentiate between the colors and the whites. I remember my mother, clothes pulled out of the washer and organized on her arm, with a handful of clothespins, tacking up load after load onto the clothesline. The result was an organized, ordered, and appealing reflection of domestic work. Household folk art.
So today, I think of Mom as I hang clothes - the smaller short-sleeved shirts, then the long sleeved ones, the towel, and the sheets. The lingerie is hung on an old rack in the laundry room though, out of site of the neighborhood.
So I walked around the neighborhood today seeing what was drying.

A woman I chatted with said she remembers her mother re-doing her clothespins because she hadn't quite gotten it right. (I've done that with John!)












The Right to Dry is a grassroots movement advocating for people in communities to be able to dry their clothes outside to save energy and money. Some communities and home owner associations prohibit outside drying.

Legislation in Vermont allows Line drying.

Wild Leeks

Foraging during springtime is a time to observe the changing landscape and feast on what is offered.
As I travel through the Kingdom, my eyes are caught by bright limey green patches- sometimes the false hellebore, sometimes emerging daylilies, or trout lilies, all have look from a distance, that  might be the wild leek.

False Hellebore

I parked my car in a pulloff alongside the road and climbed an old logging road, stepping through soggy soils and jumping over a widened brook full of melted snow and last night's rain. As I walked, the highway noise disappeared, the peepers in the marsh yelled out their delight, leaves crunched underfoot, a woodpecker tapped, a blue jay screeched, a couple of geese honked. I was looking for some wild leeks - a spring delight -   Allium tricoccum,  the featured topic of a  NY Times article, grows throughout the eastern U.S. and pops up this time of year, showy and inviting, and then, disappears within a few weeks. In the south, they're known as ramps.

Daylilies

And where the road bends, were patches of the long leafed allium, the red stalk and white bulb.


When foraging I feel a thrill that I've discovered something that others have not. That smugness is tempered with the idea of stewardship and moderation, for if I were to harvest all, there'd be none left for me or others and we end up over-harvesting and destroying a valued resource. Using a trowel I dig some, trying to not disturb plants nearby.  Back in the car, the fragrance of garlicky-onion prompts dinner ideas. 
The first is an egg dish - chopping and sauteing in a bit of butter or oil then adding the leeks to a couple of beaten eggs, adding some grated Gruyere or Parmesan cheese. Pour the mixture into a small buttered
earthenware dishes and bake in a moderate oven for a few minutes until set. Another way is to add the eggs and finally the cheese to the sauteed mixture for scrambled eggs.


In a slow oven 275 degrees, I baked the leaves separated from the stalks for about 15 minutes, turning once until things dried out. Cooled and then crumbled. I figure them to be a good addition to soups, pasta, sauces.