“I will go lie down,” she said, “for just a few moments in that hammock strung between two ponderosa pines.” No matter where you are, there is work to do. She could be downloading photos from her phone to her laptop at the table in the little mini camping cabin. There is no internet at the One -Acre Wood, but she could be formatting a manuscript. “No need,” she said. “It is a holiday. I will lie down in the hammock and do nothing and watch for stars. I will stay until the first star comes out.” She purchased the hammock several years ago from a clearance bin. Five dollars, how could she resist? It was red. Red like the Outback she enjoyed camping in at the time. She hasn’t had the Subaru for three years and three months. She has only used the hammock for two seasons – after the wilderness ranger taught her how to tie a secure hitch knot and she no longer feared “down will come baby, hammock and all.” So she hoisted herself up, straddled the hammock, drew in her feet, covered herself with a light blanket and gazed at the dusky sky. The stars were delayed in coming out because there was a moon overhead. Straight up she looked. One hundred feet through the branches, maybe 200 feet. It was an old, old forest. She basked in the moonlight. By and by she thought she saw a twinkle slightly off to the left, somewhat obscured by boughs. Was it a star? A plane? A planet? It did not move perceptibly. Not a plane. But that buzzing near her ear? That was definitely the first mosquito of the season. May 29th – not even June yet and here were the mosquitoes at 8,000 ft. Dusk deepened and even with the competition of the moon she could faintly see star clusters in the deep heavens. Millions of stars. Also mosquitos two, three and four. She rolled out of the hammock and into the back of her Rav4 and her trusty sleeping bag – the one she bought herself for a birthday three years ago.
