My family spent the weekend in a hammock. There were other parts, too, but basically we were suspended in the air on a web of cord.
It was awesome.
Hammocks are usually vacation-worthy, hanging from palm trees on beaches far from real life. We never had one when I grew up, probably because of all the snow. I’ve considered buying one over the past few years but we don’t have a good spot to hang one.
Then I helped a friend clean up a rental property. The renters had absconded, leaving a horrible mess behind. And a hammock stand, with a perfectly serviceable hammock swinging on top.
“Is this yours?” I asked my friend. I’d never seen it before, but maybe I had missed something.
“No. Do you want it?”
My eyes lit up with glee.
After two loads of trash and branches and weird plastic blocks getting a ride to the dump, my husband went back to pick up the hammock.
Two days later, after realizing how easy it was to assemble and disassemble, we headed out to the desert. Hiking, campfire, stargazing—the whole reason we live in the Southwest.
Before it got dark, the husband set up the hammock 10 or 20 …