I Sling My Hammock

Much of my inspiration comes from Sweden these days, and last summer this included a lightweight green hammock slung between trees. I came across it during a walk in the Uddavalla district - specifically the nature reserve at Kärlingesund.

I took the invitation at face value, lay for a while in what turned out to be Lien’s hammock and looked at the sky. “Look up!” is one of the 12 recommendations for life Anne Lamott has shared from life and writing - I’ve taken this and 10 other of her recommendations to heart. I looked up and I wondered how I could bring this hammocking experience home. 

For those whose only available tree is a fruitful but slender young apple, I recommend a hammock stand. I bought mine last autumn, along with a replica of Lien’s hammock, in preparation for what turned out to be this summer.

Today, waking to the excitement of no plans, I packed my rucksack, cycled to my allotment via coffee and cake at C’s, unlocked my shed, assembled my hammock stand and slung my hammock.

A few weeks ago, when my sweetcorn crop was at its peak, inbetween hammock-reading and dozing, I used my camping stove to flash-boil cobs, then anointed them with butter, before eating them like an unholy rodent.

Today, in tune with the ripening season, I dug some desirée potatoes then, satisfied with my haul for now, lay in my hammock to read ‘Waterlog’ by Roger Deakin, and drink elderflower cordial. Of course, I dozed. I read more. 

Deakin’s accounts of swimming fit well with the sway and lull of hammocking, with the being held in the same view as when backstroking. 

I surfaced to write this - and now, I think I’ll dive back in.