Our drying green was at the far end of a long garden and to get there Mum would have to carry the basket of wet washing across the lawn, past the copper beech and the old sunken garden, between a conifer hedge to the top of the garden where the vegetables were grown and the massive weeping lime tree towered over the washing line.
It wasn't until I was grown up with a washing line of my own that I really understood what she was talking about. I absolutely love hanging out washing on a beautiful day with a good drying breeze blowing. Looking up into the sky whilst pegging the laundry on the line gives a sense of space, a little separation from the noise and demands of a busy household, and just a few moments to watch a buzzard soaring in the sky above, hear its mewing call, wild and free, to commune with the other sounds going on around and about, twittering bird song and the wind blowing through the trees. The peace and quiet is very restorative. No wonder my mother loved her visits to the drying green!
I just thought I would share that with you!