What is it about washing billowing in the breeze on a washing line ?
Is it not just so gloriously suburban and romantic, to see white pillowcases and children's clothes, strung out in rows, telling us that this is a house where it's occupants are loved and cared for ?
Lacy underwear, towels and sheets, soccer shorts, table linens; it's so uninhibited, and they tell volumes about the occupants of the house they are adorning.....
"The maid was in the garden, hanging out the clothes
When down came a blackbird and pecked off her nose.
She made such a commotion that little Jenny Wren
Came down into the garden and pegged it on again."
