The distance from my aprtment to my mailbox is not much. You can cut it really short genometrically by avoiding the driving route and taking a short cut instead. You can walk through a little curvy paved road through a neatrly manicured lawn. You will pass by a tennis court on your right and a little futther on by the swimming pool on your left. Right next to the tennis court are a bunch of trees that drop fruits the size and shape and color of tennis balls. Yes, tennis balls right outside the tennis court. Little tiny freak coincidences. Among these trees is one that has caught my fancy. Its trunk is gnarled and multipronged and shaped almost like a hammock. A neat little inviting seat offers itself in all seasons. In summer, the sun falls on it metamosphising it to a golden throne. In the fall, the leaves gather all around it paying obeisance to its kingly stature. In winter, it seems to harbor a womb of warmth even with the cold drafts and snow around. I always have wanted to sit here, on the cozy lap of mother nature, watch time pass by and leisurely read a book. I probably should do it. One of these days.