You’ve seen them, no doubt.
Down by a little pond in the front yard sit two Adirondack chairs, side by side. The perfect place for two people to relax, look out over the water, maybe notice a frog on the bank and a sparrow in the tree overhead.
The settings for these two chairs are myriad. You see them on decks, on tiny balconies overlooking a new-mown lawn, under willow trees, on docks, under pergolas, on the beach, in the corner of a garden.
The only thing is, I have never seen two people sitting in those chairs.
Pam and I have driven nearly 1500 vacation miles, from Connecticut to Lake Winnipesaukee, New Hampshire, to Quebec City, to Prince Edward Island, to Cape Breton Island in Nova Scotia. And we have been Adirondack spotting. Once I noted that they were ever empty, we whiled away the miles looking for people in Adirondack chairs. When we got to our condo in Nova Scotia we went out on the back deck and Pam pointed. There, under a jack pine next door, were two yellow Adirondack chairs looking out over Ingonish Harbour. Empty, of course.
Adirondacks have a strikingly anthropomorphic design, with broad arms and legs and a reclining back. Seeing the chair one almost sees a person reclining. Perhaps we stage these props in settings of calm, natural beauty in order to evoke—on sight—an image of peace. Perhaps, that is, we are accomplished at creating scenes of rest and relaxation precisely because we have such great difficulty actually enjoying rest and relaxation.
I know I am speaking to someone with two Adirondack chairs nestled somewhere on your lawn. This would be a good day to go, take someone with you, and sit in them. Perhaps you have chaise lounges. They work as well. As do lawn chairs, even white plastic ones.
It is still August, when most of the world is on vacation and the rest of the world does not even bother to keep up the appearance of work. This would be a very good time.