Hammock Duty

I slipped past the front door sweep to ditch the evening chill, shaking garden dirt from my boot soles. Hanging right off the lowest coat peg was the fringed tail of a thick wool scarf, dangling like a rescue rope. I grabbed the twisted yarn, pulled myself up hand over hand, and tumbled into a deep, pillowy hammock formed by a folded loop of ribbed knit. Bracing one boot against a smooth wooden coat toggle, I leaned back into the soft wool. High above the cold floor tiles and surrounded by quiet warmth, patrol mode is officially off.