Life changes

oldhammockSINCE DAY ONE, over 12 years ago, this hammock has hung right there on the upstairs terraza. I brought it from the porch of the two-story rental where we lived before building the Hacienda.

This hammock is actually second generation. Its papa rotted in time and was replaced by another, identical, that we purchased during a visit down to the coast. Good hammocks are not sold here on the mountaintop.

This one too is beginning to rot. It was always outside. We never brought it in, even in frigid winter. A couple of weeks ago, two young nephews were here visiting, and they played on the hammock in the typical fashion of 11-year-olds, which is to say maniacally. One string broke.

For many years, I was out there daily, swinging in the cool air under the red-tile roof, usually with a book, often with nothing but a peaceful heart. Those were good times. But I gradually tapered off. Dunno why. My child bride has never used the hammock much. She’s not much for kicking back.

I, on the other hand, am a first-class kicker-backer.

The perspective does not make one thing obvious. You step through that screen door, and you are almost against the hammock. It’s an obstacle, but when the hammock was used a lot, it was an obstacle I was willing to accept. Yesterday, I said to myself:  You will never use this hammock again, so get rid of it.

And I did. We folded it up and upended it into a corner out in the garden patio where the yard gear lives under another red-tile roof. My child bride does not want me to throw it away, even though it is well rotted, because she never wants to throw anything away. It’s a Mexican thing.

So I will wait some months, then toss it. Don’t tell her.

I went out this morning, and swept the upstairs terraza. It felt more open, more accessible, more friendly. I think even the magueys in the big pots are glad it’s gone. That terraza has always been a bit of a problem. Tough magueys are about the only plants that don’t die up there due to winter freezes.

In summer, it’s usually covered by a third with puddled rainwater. In springtime, the sun is brutal if you’re not under the relatively small percentage covered by the red-tile roof.

But we’ll be replacing the hammock with a couple of nice, soft chairs that are designed for outdoor life. We’ll get them from Costco in the capital city. It’s just a question of when we see something we like.

For years we also used the yard patio a lot, the one downstairs with the glass-topped table, web chairs and big, brown umbrella. However, that space too has dwindled almost to zero usage. Nowadays we use the downstairs terraza with its wicker rockers almost exclusively for kicking back.

Life changes. Dunno why.

15 thoughts on “Life changes

  1. I think hammocks are a bit overrated, one of those icons that is supposed to exemplify relaxation but I haven’t found them all that relaxing, especially the woven ones that you can get your foot stuck in when you want to get out. When I was a kid my dad put a big canvas hammock out in the back yard, and that was pretty comfortable until it started to smell moldy.


    1. Bliss: Most are woven. There are basically two styles. One has perpendicular wooden bars, one on either end. I prefer that style by far. The other, which has lots of fans, lacks those bars. Its fans think it’s more versatile. I think it’s an annoying trap. I imagine you are thinking of that sort when you mention getting your foot caught. In any event, my hammock life has ended.


      1. Called spreader bars. I like the un-spread kind. There’s a trick to getting in one and then positioning to lie down. Firstly ours is hung low enough to straddle the middle before assuming the position. Getting up is the reverse.


        1. Carole: You described perfectly why I think the non-spreaders are a pain in the kazoo. People who like them really swear by them, are convinced of their superiority. I imagine it just takes practice. I have dumped myself into them on occasion. Yuck. Got no patience for practice. The spreaders keep them open and ready for a rest.


  2. Guess I’m still in the “I love hamacas” stage. It’s a Mérida thing.
    They are the perfect setting for doing nothing. The difficult egress encourages one to stay put.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Bev: They are indeed the perfect setting for doing nothing, and I imagine the climate in Mérida is more fitting than what I have here on my often-cold mountaintop.


  3. When I was a boy scout I purchased an army surplus, olive drab hammock, the kind the marines used at Guadalcanal. It was made with a plasticized fabric with a waterproof top and misquito netting. I’ve never seen anything like it since and I never bought another hammock. It was well-suited for camping trips in Florida.


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