Goodbye Hammock, Hello Swing

A few weeks ago I took a gentle, experimental sit in the hammock. The five year old cotton hammock that stayed outside this last winter. It creaked and protested while I laid back and examined the new growth and tiny pine cones above me. Later that afternoon the 16yo bounded out into the yard and took his usual dive into the hammock. The south end of said hammock disintegrated and he landed on his butt with a thud and a loud OW!! that resounded through the neighborhood. Fortunately, the ground under the hammock is spongy and soft, rather forest floor like. He good naturedly held the pose while I ran in the house to grab my camera. Then he had the entertaining task of dismantling the shredded thing and depositing its remains in the trash. The open spot looked just right for a yard swing. After an average amount of swearing and tooth-gnashing, dropping tools in the grass and correctly identifying various pieces of hardware in little plastic bags, the swing is assembled. Due to rain, more rain, other yardwork that took precedence, and still more rain, the entire process took over three weeks. The 16 yo has been admonished that the swing is meant to be sat on in a civilized and decorous manner. No diving.