Suspended

Stretched in the shade of two ancient oak trees, the hammock is cool on even the sunniest day. Behind the hammock rises rock covered with bushes, and in front of it, small oaks and wild blueberry bushes crowd a downward slope. At the bottom of the little hill lie acres and acres of cattails, and the shallow water of the bay, filled with weeds and water lilies. Past the bay is the river, of course, with big lakers that sound their fog horns on rainy mornings.

The hammock is a bit removed from all the talking and laughter of family members who are building fires or preparing meals or playing bocce. For introverted members of the family, it's a favourite spot for napping or reading a book, or just spending some quiet time away from the rest of the noisy group. My husband always says you haven't properly enjoyed camp unless you've had the "hammock experience."

Of course, like everything else at camp, the hammock is sometimes shared or fought over. I'll often find Drama Niece and Blonde Niece both in the hammock, giggling and talking. One year my kids started playing a game that involved putting a person in the hammock and then swinging it hard to flip that person out. It's a fine game if you like getting slammed against the ground while your fingers and feet are twined in rope.

Late afternoon, when everyone has come back from swimming and are crowding around the picnic tables, devouring fruit or chips or pretty much any food available, I'll join my husband in the hammock so that we can have a private moment to talk without the kids chiming in. The gently swaying hammock in its shady spot above the cattails is a peaceful place to be.