In my hammock

This was a significant moment: it's ten years since we last enjoyed the hammock, in our former Durham garden in summer 2012. There, it used to hang between two mature fruit trees, close to the patio in the back garden, so I could watch the tiny, olive sized Victoria plums and little green Bramley apples swell and ripen as the summer progressed. Here, it's been more difficult to locate, but P has now sorted out some additional ropes and yesterday he put it between two tall pine trees towards the bottom of the garden and the orchard gate. It was a beautiful, bright afternoon, and the pines have new, vibrant green growth amidst the dark green needles. Over the edge of the hammock, I could see across the valley. It was windy enough for me to be swaying gently. It felt very airy and peaceful, gazing up into the tree. I read for a while, but felt a little too chilly to stay for long and I couldn't forget the long list of jobs; next time, I will be better prepared with cosy socks and a blanket. 

The hammock was a birthday present from P about twenty years ago. He ordered it from the wonderful hammock shop we had visited in Amsterdam, on the Singel close to the flower market. It's a large, robust South American woven hammock which will last a lifetime and beyond. We all love it, though now that J needs hoist transfers, we'll have to find a new way of getting her into it. She used to curl up with our big, gentle cat Ginger, or lie with me chatting and dreaming. P would recline with his laptop; I liked to look through the branches at the night sky on warm summer evenings. I'm already thinking ahead to the summer meteor showers.