One of my favorite things is to pull from the closet, in November or December or January or February, a set of sheets -- or a nightgown -- that's been dried on the line. You can still smell it! The freshness, the sunshine, the blue skies and puffy clouds and grass and flowers and bugs and SUMMER.
Working long days as I do, I don't hang laundry on the line quite as much as I used to, or as I'd like -- sometimes the weather and my day off do not cooperate for such activity. Sometimes I don't get started 'til late. I do it when I can, though. I could never live in a neighborhood that had a covenant prohibiting clotheslines.
I often think of something Mom always told me about her mother... that Grandma was always the last one in the neighborhood to get her laundry on the line each day, but it was always the whitest! (This is the grandma who included scrubbing down of rafters in the attic as a normal part of her spring cleaning routine. Yeah. I doubt she would approve of the "Tsk, Tsk" that one of my lovely daughters scrawled into the dust on the vanity in my bedroom... a couple of weeks ago... it's still there. If you look back, you'll see that D was Definitely not for Dusting.)