Mindful-fun-da-mentals

Explorations of mind, paths, and life

Hammocks & Lazy Pleasure

Posted on March 20, 2010 - Filed Under birds, daily life, lake, nature

The air is smooth and comforting today, warm breezes move up from the lake on to my porch and I feel sleepy and content like a cat sunning herself in a window. It is still early in the year, and the summer sun has a long way to go, so my deck has a growing sliver of sunshine, and most of it remains in the shade. I have lists of things to do, and yet, lately, I am feeling pretty protective of my weekends. I have been working hard; teaching extra classes at the college, scheduling more clients, side projects, and sister-blogs, and my own need to keep going with stuff that fills me. Oh, how this breeze is heavenly. This is the first time I have put on a pair of shorts all year (I even bothered to shave my legs!)

After the morning workout, and the exhaustion that follows, I stood in the shower wondering why I make myself so busy. I figured I would go out, get lunch, get coffee, get shopping, get returning, get gas, get stuff done… missing this quietly warm weather… a day I usually miss because I am in a building somewhere, WISHING I was outside. So, I decided to stay out here – forget looking at the computer, and the emails, and the work, and the lists… I decided I needed some air.

Several times during the week I get up earlier than my 7:30am alarm. I get up when Justin does, and because I have been leaving my windows open and curtains drawn back, the early light tiptoes into the bedroom. I always seem to wake facing the windows, and as my eyes open I stare out to the framed world, stirring between fog that blankets the lake, and birds calling to each other to stretch and fly. Out in the middle of the lake, at that early misty time, I see some birds diving and surfacing, up and down, in the water. They look like Anhinga, black and sleek; their funky crooked necks stick out at angles, black necks in the Lochness, – a whole volary of them mysteriously disappearing and reappearing. I often see them later in the day, once the sun warms the land, perched on rocks and old water-logged tree limbs, with wings out as they dry off. They are mesmerizing, moving in and out from the surface of the water, quiet and content. The rest of the day, they just laze about… just as I plan on doing.

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AND – that is just what I did. I pulled up the hammock I bought last summer at a yard sale for $10… the hammock my mother asked me if I was using. The one she wanted me to sell at my February Yard Sale, because “If I haven’t used it yet, why not get rid of it?” The one I have fantasized about laying in and looking at the sky, or the stars. Laying in my ugly green hammock, a fresh sheet thrown over it and two pillows to prop my head on, I lazed about like those Anhinga; my feet content in the sliver of sunshine, my face cooled by the shade. Gizmo made himself cozy on the hammock with me as we stared off towards the lake, sighing every now and again when a new breeze would whip up and wash over us. I read quietly… something I rarely do – READ a BOOK – and I let my thoughts just slip away behind heavy eyelids, little snoozes, and a fresh page of story. Tasks would clamber up the hammock and tug at the hairs on my head between long moments of contentment, and I would let them cling for a moment, then shake them off and return to this quiet space. I love these days of March and April, warm and cool, filling up with the croaks of frogs, and the buzz of insects. I love how these days fill in under my skin, making me loose myself in the thick comfort of tolerable air and blue skies. I love how I feel so aware, so open, under those blue skies… so nurtured … so peaceful.

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