On Sunday I took down the hammock and put it in the garage. I may drag it out again before storing it for the winter, but then again, I may not. The hammock greatly enhanced our summer. It was another place to be outside, and because it hung in the back of our yard, it gave us the rare vantage point of looking toward the house.

One of my favorite times to sit there was when it was getting dark and the lamps were lit in the living room and kitchen and our house looked like an orange orb, so cozy and inviting. Its flaws and dust were hidden then in the subtle glow.

Without the hammock the trees look naked. More than I miss lying in the hammock I miss looking at it. Could it be that the promise of leisure is better than leisure itself?