The truth about line drying your laundry and therapeutic parenting.

Proof that I have moved into the country and am slowly morphing into the self-reliant/farm girl/ hippie/organic farmer of my dreams.

The user tabs in my computer open are all about wind turbines, organic fruit tree spray and a shopping window for essential oil.

 “You can call me Granola if you want to.”

so , in between monitoring my kids manual labor of removing rototill-ed-up- grass where my new flower bed is going to be, and messing around on the internet, doing important research.

 My washer beeped.

Time to put the laundry out on the line.

There at first was a novelty to it.

Now sometimes it is a pain in the butooski.
Sometimes I don’t want to STOP what I am doing and take the TIME.

When it is warm, and the birds are chirping, it is peaceful and rewarding to be out there, barefoot grass between my toes, sun on my face, I feel like I should have a back ground sound track for some laundry soap commercial.

But I live in Idaho.

When it is cold, or blowing wind too hard for things to stay pinned, or even better raining, then I want to stomp and swear and ask Trev to build the vent thingy for my dryer. Then I want it fast and easy and use less of my energy. I am tired, I have other things I would rather be doing.
I want to hurry the crap up and get it over with, move on, do it the conventional way.

When the air is sweet my laundry smells AMAZING.
When the cow dung smell is blowing fierce, not so AMAZING.

But there is some truths in the line drying.
It may take more energy at first, but things dry faster, and better, with the initial time taken.
If I am honest, even when I don’t feel like it or want to, when I am done, there is a feeling of accomplishment.

The extra time and effort gives me time to think and process.

So that is all I have to say about therapeutic parenting.