There was a platform built near the back door with steps on one side that we would climb and Mother would set down her laundry basket of wet clothing and pull the line towards her. A bleach bottle with a large hole cut from the top of it containing numerous wooden clothes pegs hung from the line. As her work progressed and corners of pillowcases and bath towels were fastened to the strong cord, I could see other women in the distance performing similar actions with similar household items. Often the women would wave or call out greetings. Sometimes they would invite us over for tea.
It was the 'lines of communication', though, that conveyed vast amounts of information, far greater than what the spoken words said. The day of the week laundry was hung was significant. It told whether there was order in the household. The dungarees and faded shirts told whether work was plentiful. A predominance of women's undergarments signified the time of the month. A sea of diapers heralded a baby's arrival in the world and black on the line meant a sympathy card was in order.
Some people learn to read by following the words in a book with their eyes and enunciating each syllable until the sounds and rhythm of their spoken voice makes sense to them. Standing on a large wooden box in the middle of a rural setting was how I learned to 'read.'