It took three tries to push open the office building door into the solid wall of squall. I could barely make out the form of Charlie's car -- a baby blue convertible not emotionally suited for this weather -- as I walked toward the sidewalk.
Winter storm warnings were up so we left my car in the building garage safe from the indignities of street parking-- a night of bully snowplows and fishtailing neighbors.
My office building is a short distance from where the river meets the lake on a wide open street which funnels the wind and wet. The weather is worse there than most any place else in the immediate area, but for weary commuters heading home it's best to get the worst of the trip out early. It's also the only time of year I appreciate not having a window in my office.
The side streets were thick and slick as Charlie drove me to my doctor's appointment, but cleared some as we got away from the building and on to main arteries.
He hit golf balls at the dome with the guys from the cottage this morning, he said.
As I looked out the windows I saw the overgreen everything of the cottage summer, the ducks and the string fences Murph and Bill put up to foil the obnoxious, but not particularly bright, Canadian geese.
Since Charlie was driving, I could allow my mind to go where it wanted - and it clearly preferred the campfire and lilac smell and blue sky on blue lake horizon of the cottage.
A school bus in front of us disgorged a gaggle of children jostling each other through the open door to try to race the cold home, but I was thinking about a hammock and the dense canopy of the tall trees that crowd the cottage.
One or more trees will have to go this summer. They are nasty, woody, mishapen Poplars which blanket everything in fuzzy seed pods for weeks. They are weak wood with insufficient roots, dangerous to have tilting over your cottage. They've been trimmed , trimmed and trimmed again over the years, but I remember when they weren't much taller than my grandfather... and I wonder if we can get by with another season of trimming... especially now that I have a brand-new, January inspired hammock plan.
I'll read books in the hammock. All the ones still on the pile from last summer and then some. I probably won't even need my reading glasses there, just a short pitcher of icy vodka tonic.
But then we were at the doctor's office. I slipped awkwardly back into reality, missing the luxuriant comfort of my hammock.
We were home within the hour to discover the mailman had left new Roth and Updike titles for me. I saw them instantly sharing my hammock.
Because, I have now decided, when you have a hammock you get these books sent to the erudite you -- and not because you forgot to mail the card that said you didn't want them.
Yes, this will be a hammock summer.

Copyright 2007 Judi Griggs