Hammock Time,
A cool breeze ruffles the aspen leaves overhead and the babbling brook hisses and tumbles in the crowded willow grove just out of sight. The tall grass reaches almost up to the level of the slowly swaying colorful hammock stretched between two younger aspens - giving it a special elasticity and bounce only possible with youth. Birds chirp happily in the surrounding bushes and trees and a inquizatve hummingbird flitters over to investigate the bright bands of color of my supportive sling. I recline here, enjoying hammock time, that special combination of space, time and spirit, when my body, weary from a day of hiking, and my skin, warm from a day in the sun, and my mind open, and quiet, and accepting of this incredible gift all seem synchronized. I see the bright sun reflecting on the paper white skin of the aspen trunks, with the telltale eyebrows above each branch as they diverge from the trunk I see the bubbles flowing down the brook, created in one drop over glistening stones, swirled in the pool below then disolved in the stream only to reimerge as new bubbles, of the same clan further downstream. I see the blue, blue, blue sky overhead, but under careful scruntiny, I can see it paler at the horizon, then ever so slowly deepening to a royal full saturated blue directly overhead. And I know, this is the way it always is here, this peaceful harmony in a secluded mountain valley on the edge of the Utah eastern desert,at the edge of the Great Basin, that region of ancient seas in southern Utah and Nevada, now defined by circumferantial uplift and erosion with or without my observations - and I want to be able to channel this peacefulness, and harmony, natural power and balance again, when I need it for strength. I know this is special, and flitting, but for now, I am in the midst of good mojo, and calm and satisfaction. I am relishing in.... hammock time.
A cool breeze ruffles the aspen leaves overhead and the babbling brook hisses and tumbles in the crowded willow grove just out of sight. The tall grass reaches almost up to the level of the slowly swaying colorful hammock stretched between two younger aspens - giving it a special elasticity and bounce only possible with youth. Birds chirp happily in the surrounding bushes and trees and a inquizatve hummingbird flitters over to investigate the bright bands of color of my supportive sling. I recline here, enjoying hammock time, that special combination of space, time and spirit, when my body, weary from a day of hiking, and my skin, warm from a day in the sun, and my mind open, and quiet, and accepting of this incredible gift all seem synchronized. I see the bright sun reflecting on the paper white skin of the aspen trunks, with the telltale eyebrows above each branch as they diverge from the trunk I see the bubbles flowing down the brook, created in one drop over glistening stones, swirled in the pool below then disolved in the stream only to reimerge as new bubbles, of the same clan further downstream. I see the blue, blue, blue sky overhead, but under careful scruntiny, I can see it paler at the horizon, then ever so slowly deepening to a royal full saturated blue directly overhead. And I know, this is the way it always is here, this peaceful harmony in a secluded mountain valley on the edge of the Utah eastern desert,at the edge of the Great Basin, that region of ancient seas in southern Utah and Nevada, now defined by circumferantial uplift and erosion with or without my observations - and I want to be able to channel this peacefulness, and harmony, natural power and balance again, when I need it for strength. I know this is special, and flitting, but for now, I am in the midst of good mojo, and calm and satisfaction. I am relishing in.... hammock time.
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| From 2012 Spring trip |
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