hammock swinging.

About this time last year, I was in sunny warm Oleiros, Portugal, practicing yoga and oh so loosened up from the luxurious heat. In the afternoons I'd escape to a secret nook in a eucalyptus forest to sweep fallen leaves off of a red cushioned swing, twirl in it and write. Or else I'd laze in the rainbow hammock and dodge the sun kaleidoscoping through the branches above.

I think of this now, because for some odd reason, visions of hammocks dance in my head. I might have dreamed of swinging last night. Though I distinctly remember something about a bubble bath in a sunlit room overflowing with vases of freshcut flowers. A jacuzzi tub jetting its hot streams against my back.

What are you dreaming of? 

p.s. If you know anybody Europe-side who might be interested in a yoga retreat, let them know about this Ashtanga Yoga Retreat in Oleiros. It truly is a magical place.   

{exaggerated tree hammock found here : photographer : unknown : please let me know if it's yours}