It’s retractable, and when you extend it as far as it will go and latch it to the closest sapling it barely holds a light kitchen towel. But it’s there, our clothesline, something I’ve always wanted, albeit a crazy anachronistic desire.

Maybe it’s harkening back to my childhood, to hanging sheets on the line, seeing them billow in the breeze, bringing them back in the house, inhaling their perfume of sunshine and fresh air.

Or maybe it goes even farther back in time, to some ancestral past, pounding clothes with a rock in the stream, drying them on grass or shrubbery.

Mostly it’s just a foolish romantic notion. I appreciate modern conveniences as much as the next person. But on a hot July afternoon, when laundry dries more quickly outside than in, surely there is something to love about a clothesline.