Just Another Herd Creature

What I miss about living in the Midwest is the smell of cotton clothes dried for hours outside, hanging in the breeze. The air (of my youth) was fairly clean – no fear the clothes would come in dirtier than they were before being washed. On hot days, I'd practically volunteer to hang the clothes out. The damp slap, and then cling of the wet cloth on my naked arms and face, was delicious. We'd pick them up as the sun went down. Folding them, my arms would burn with the exertion of keeping the large towels off the ground. But it was worth it for the smell. The breeze's breath and the sun’s warmth were bookends to the morning’s cool hanging. The best clothes washing weather was hot mornings and cool evenings. Days later the scent remained as we changed the bed sheets. Climbing in between them soothed transgressions of the day, filling my nose and dreams with an easy order; all was right with the world.

No fabric softener or dryer sheets will ever make me feel that way.