Serious about hammocks

Here’s a photo of Pineapple Hill being built. The floor plan for our “beach house in a cow pasture in rural South Carolina,” was chosen to enable a Pawley’s Island hammock on the second floor screened porch just outside the master bath room. I had the hammock up way before the house was finished—and before the porch had a floor. Getting to it meant balancing on joists eleven feet up

cow pasture in rural South Carolina Pawleys Island hammock

Bad things happened, an entire run of them that shut me down, caused me to withdraw from everything except my inner self.

One afternoon, in a hammock, I took a photo of myself. Just my legs. But there was no one to send it to. No one to understand.

I needed a sidekick so I sketched an armadillo because they’re crusty on the outside but not within. I made him my butler. Crusoe’s manservant Friday.

We began interacting—my hammock photo speaking to that critter, that critter speaking back.There’s a folder of cartoons somewhere. For now there’s just this one. (LINK)

Eventually after that I began writing novels.

I’m still a hermit, marooned you might say, but leaving my shell more and more—my inner self seeking its freedom through writing.