Swinging

The rocking chair swing I dreamed of last fall has finally become a reality. This week I bought some more rope (The rope I bought last fall has disappeared into some dark crevice in my house...) and hauled the poorly painted project out of the barn. My dear husband, wanting to make his somewhat grumpy wife happy, set about trying to hang it from the tree.

The best spot for a swing is hanging from the long, straight branch of the Weeping Birch outside my kitchen window. This particular branch has been the home of several swings now; a yellow kid-sized swing and two different baby swings. Since the two year old I presently babysit doesn't care much for swinging and I have no baby to put into it at the moment, I had the tot swing removed to make room for mine. If, per chance, a small child wishes for a ride, they are welcome to snuggle up on my lap or have a go at this one alone.

Funny thing, when we lived in town this chair spent summers out on our front porch. After dinner was done, I would head out to the porch for a few moments of relaxation, and I think I am going to love swinging in this chair on summer evenings as much as I enjoyed rocking there many years ago. (I'm almost thankful for that giant of a dog who dropped a lamp and broke off one of the rockers just behind the rear leg rendering it seemingly useless. Yeah, I am definitely thankful.)