I went looking for a photo today, trying to bring to mind the old glider swing that my grandpa built his (and grandma’s) farm, probably in the 30s or 40s. It was one of my favorite things about the farm because my sister and I were small enough to stretch out on the seats. We’d beg someone to give us a push now and then and spend hours under the trees, watching squirrel and birds. Ah, the life.
Not quite grandpa’s, but isn’t this picture wonderful?
Years ago I found a swing that looked just like my grandpa’s and sent off for the pattern/plans. I told my husband I wanted one for our yard. He’s yet to build it and I can’t find the plans, so I thought I’d start looking again.
As close as I could find today to the “real” thing.
I’ve found a few photographs, but haven’t found grandpa’s exact swing yet. I’ll keep looking and keep thinking about that old swing until I get one. A carefree summer swinging under the sky is too good to be forgotten.
Thank you for all the memories your post has stirred: both of the glider swing and the hammock on gramma’s veranda.
How lovely!
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