The Gentle Sway of the Hammock Swing

A year. That's how much time has passed since the last time I sat in my hammock swing. At odd moments during the past year, I'd think about my swing and wish I had it. But I had no place to hang it. I finally bought a stand, and now, my swing is on my deck.

When I settled into it late yesterday afternoon, I felt like a kid with the best gift ever. Just sitting and swaying, losing track of time. I read my book. I watched the Carolina wrens. The babies had left the nest about two weeks ago, but the whole family shows up each evening and hunts for dinner in the side yard. Mostly I just sat, eyes closed, and listened to the cicadas. 

The air smells different now. During spring and summer the vegetation gives off a vibrant odor. Now, hints of autumn waft on the breeze. I think of the color brown when whiffs of falling leaves and annuals reaching the end of their life drift on the air.

A chipmunk joined me on the deck for a few minutes. Its cheeks appeared packed full, bulging. Preparing for cooler weather maybe.

I love this time of year. The natural slowing down.