The Sundial Chair

 

The Sundial Chair

This is my beloved backyard chair.

The chair itself is at least ten years old, and from best as I can tell, such mesh, four position loungers are not to be found at either big box or small establishments that sell backyard furniture.  If I remember correctly--always a stretch--I bought a couple of these to contribute to the outdoor seating at my former son-in-law's cabin.  The cabin was sold before his and Molly's marriage ended; the chairs must have come home with them; she must have claimed them in the dissolution of their household goods.

I'm awfully glad she did.

A couple years ago, I earnestly looked to replace this chair and its now less sturdy mate.  Being the frugal daughter of a frugal father (who owned frayed, web meshed lawn chairs for years because they were still serviceable), I was appalled by the prices of decidedly nicer backyard lounge chairs.  These are slatted, many made of teak and bamboo to stand up to the elements.  Their cushions are thick and plush.  I know because I've parked my rear on similar ones at nice resorts and pools.

So while at the Home Depot, in search of replacements, I came upon lounge chair cushions for what felt to me like a reasonable price.  Feeling content and spartanly proud, I decided these would do.  And they have and from the looks of them here at the finale of another summer, they'll be put to good use again next May.  I will slide them into large, heavy plastic bags to prevent critters from burrowing in the stuffing and will set them to their winter hibernation in our storage garage.

Once spring arrives, I haul the chair to the back of the yard, distanced from the tall evergreens so that it lounges in perpetual sunshine, beckoning me each warm, sunshiney day to come set a spell, bring the Kindle, something cool to drink.  The last two years, dearly departed Hank would settle in under the chair, desiring to be near me, preferring shade--until he would trot into the hostas bordering the house and hide out there.  This summer, because Benny, now five months old, is in the throws of puppyhood, we purchased a lead that attaches to a corkscrew set securely into the ground.  Increasingly he has enjoyed being outside, wandering around the yard, occasionally giving chase to a squirrel, munching on sticks.  When he is finished, Benny looks toward the house and lets forth with the Beagle Bray, which, we have learned, is his elected form of communication.  Hungry?  Beagle Bray.  Need to go to the bathroom?  Beagle Bray.  Bored?  Beagle Bray.

The positioning of the chair doesn't change all summer.  It basks in sunlight until late afternoon, by which time the outdoor portion of my program is usually coming to an end.  

As August turns to September (see previous blog post), so do the backyard shadows, necessitating Chair Repositioning.  To that end, the chair becomes a Sundial.  It starts on the east end of the lawn, in line with the rising sun, and gradually moves across the grass until by mid-afternoon, shade overruns the yard.  Which is just as well, because while the sun still sends out its summery streaks, the accompanying breeze reminds you that should you be going out after 6 p.m., you'd best bring a sweater with you.  And maybe change into jeans.

Increasingly the Sundial Chair will be used less and less.  If I can find a good patch of sunshine in the yard, I'll bundle up in sweats, maybe bring out an afghan, and get an hour or so in before surrendering to the cooling weather.  But I do enjoy this final burst of spending time outdoors.