Monday, November 9, 2015

The Night Hammock

Now that the big tree has been moved it's a straight shot out the back door to the hammock.

Late at night, right before bed, I let Sugar out back and wind my way through the yard to the hammock. It's a little damp and sometimes has sap on it but I'm in pajamas so I don't mind,  these nights that are cool enough to discourage mosquitoes and warm enough for bare feet are cherished.

I drop myself into the hammock the wrong way so that my midget legs can give it a good push, switch off my flashlight and then close my eyes and wait.

When I open my eyes they have adjusted to the darkness and I can see the stars through the towering pines. Even though it's November the bugs are still singing their knackered summer songs. Some nights the owls are conversing about dinner plans. If I'm lucky the train chugs off through the woods and if I'm luckier I can see a satellite glide past in the blackness.

 Sometimes the coyotes howl and remind me not to get too cozy and linger for too long.

I sway in the hammock and feel the tension drain out of my shoulders, my hips relax and my toes uncurl. I dwell on the fluttering leaves and savor the smell of the pine needles. A leaf spirals lazily down and my eyelids feel heavy. The hammock begins to swing more slowly until it scarcely oscillates.

I treat myself to another good push.

Too often Sugar gets impatient and reminds me that inside we have milk bones and warm beds waiting for us and I am coerced into vacating the night hammock before I'm satisfied but when I ease under the covers I can conjure the sensation of swaying until I am lulled into sleep.

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