Craving another hammock to escape to, I succumbed to purchasing the cadillac of all hammocks from the big warehouse store where we seem to justify purchases we would never make elsewhere. It didn't last long either; the heat and sun wore down the hammock bed, and now it rests on the bottom deck useless like carcass bones in the desert.
Recently, I found another hammock. This time the investment was small (19.95!) and I didn't have to carry the thick rope and wood dowel bundle back from Costa Rica. It came with its own attachments, is made of parachute material and is even machine washable. Son-in-law set it up in minutes.
There's something about the call to be swaddled and rocked. To ignore the ever present demands, the tension, the to-do-list; power is found in walking away, if just for a minute, to swing in a hammock.
A few days ago, when I heard a bump of thunder, I had to answer the hammock call, if only for ten minutes. I grabbed a book and dashed through the house, out the door, and into the blue swinging-in-the-light-wind hammock.
At first the raindrops were just like little mice running across the top deck, but it soon turned into a whole field of clogging mice.
Cocooned in the hammock, listening to nature's gentle wash, the cool breeze on an August afternoon--ahhhh, I was renewed.
Keeping hammocks in my yard is a struggle, but so is finding time to relax. I'm thinking the invitation to swing in a hammock should be at least number five on the to-do list. Maybe number two.
Heaven in a hammock
Ahhh, had I been a noble child swung in this aristocratic hammock, I too might have said to the poor in their want for bread, "Let them eat cake!"
If moments of relaxation aren't a priority, let this ten second video inspire you to consider making it so.