The Hammock

After an early morning and before an active afternoon, which is scheduled to go into the evening, I seek rejuvenation and decide to go for a forest walk. On the uphill side, I am tired; on the downhill side, I pass by the hammock. Often, I have seen T.J. there, feet over the side and thought, what’s keeping me away?

hammockYesterday, I was on a mission of transporting water to potted and other vulnerable plants. I walked all around the hammock but did not stop. Today, I finished carrying water early and decided on a walk-about before it got too hot. During my wandering, I found plenty of freshly fallen deadwood to haul out from under the forest. I may not chop wood but do my part in the process, keeping my eye on the hammock in my comings and goings.

Later, the thermometer tells me it is 90 degrees outside. I venture forth under the consuming sun, past the driveway and arrive under a cooling canopy over the hammock with my water bottle and a recently finished book I said I would review.

I look up to various nests high up in the trees from inside the hammock. Owls? Other birds? A couple of nests are very large. I tug the pull rope and settle into a gentle swaying motion. Air flows all around my body. A soft wind between oak limbs shivers the leaves and brings further relief from the cumulative effects of recent oppressive temperatures. One of three woodpeckers currently active does several tap, taps; birds call, and butterflies head towards the shade as I praise the old growth under which I am privileged to recline.
(c) Gudrun Mouw
August 15, 2015

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