Letting our wet laundry flap in the breeze

Onward and upwards and downwards and crosswise.

Let your freak flag fly.

Eyesore? or neighborhood sight of mild interest? 

Husband's friend passes by on bike daily, joked about whites not being white enough.

At  one visitor to loud, rowdy neighbors took pics from the alley.

There is no such thing as an energy saving gas or electric dryer. 

Clement says this looks like a scene from the 1400s.

Another time he said hanging laundry was for poor people. 

One time when he was a toddler,  he told his grandmother he saw an animal way downstairs at the baement level.  See that dark crack? She thought he meant a toy animal.

I came home from work to water our container garden, hear a thud,  and screamed when I  saw a yellow glowing eyes on a bear sized ball of fur, come limping out of the darkeness.

 A huge racoon skittered out through the narrow slats of the door leading to the alley.

Undies and socks would usually go on one of several half broken, jerry rigged drying racks I found abandoned in the alleys.  Usually no clothes pins except on super windy days, so less effort for hanging.

Inside out to prevent fading and so that inner pockets of jeans, etc, dry well.

Mated and mateless.

I have my favorite wooden clothespins with strong hardware.

Each batch is has a different personality. 

Do not like the bamboo (which splinters.)

Hope that you've enjoyed this little tour of our clotheslines on the back porch.