Tale of a Saturday Ride

Saturday afternoon on the bike path, and the sun is golden and the trees rush past, and I hear a beep from a passing station wagon and a friend waves heartily.

Cruising through the park three boys in footy shirts kick a ball around. I wonder briefly why one has turned away, then the light catches a liquid arch. Ok.

Turning down a quiet street, a granny watches patient from her tidy porch - the little patchwork world goes by.

As I pass a smallish figtree, I see a man, arms stretched to guard. A small voice cries,
"I can see the whole world from here!"

Another little person waves madly at me from the cosy grasp of mother's arms. Dad smiles,
"Hola".

A huge pom-pommed, blow-dried poodle trots by, owner in tow. I see a large man with a small dog, and a small lady with a large dog.

Among the rows of lonely boats, a cheery bunch of blokes enliven one craft - a tight rowdy circle, sipping their beers.

Down by the fish shop a mop-haired toddler dances on a grate while dad looks on.

I sit by the pearly water in my own mind as the waves crash and the sun ebbs.
The pebbled stone is warm beneath me.

Coming home two girls are faced away from the road, peering through a fence. One catches my quizzical glance and turns around. Lurching toward me, arms outstretched she intones,
"It's the end of the world", and collapses into giggling.

I laugh back.

5 Little Ducks, or why you may want to reconsider river-floating

Well facebook may do the job pictorially, but verbally it just doesn't cut it.. So I'm just going to give you a bit of a run-down on our recent river-float adventure.

Things worth noting:
-It was not the warmest of days
-In fact, it was forecast to rain in the afternoon
-We had not pre-tested our floating devices ("oh yeah, they're fine" from a father does not suffice).
-We had not paid much attention to the timing of our route.
-Nor of the location of the road in relation to the river.

But let me begin.

We were dropped off in a nice little reserve-y place where we blew up our humble crafts (5 li-los), leapt aboard, and floated/bounded/splashed and writhed away. At first the li-los behaved somewhat like errant seahorses, bobbing up and down with us on their backs; but we soon had them tamed, and were able to lie back and cruise on downstream, paddling here and there to avoid the snags.

Tamed, I say, until they began to leak. And it got colder. A breeze blew. It rained a little. We'd been going probably a bit over an hour when the novelty was really starting to wear off (as was the circulation in Laura's arm, holding her leak shut). We floated past a house. At that stage I was still pretty determined to continue, but I did catch a couple of the others casting longing glances in that direction.

A little later, beginning to freeze (did I mention the day was somewhat lacking in sunshine?), we climbed out and peered about the countryside, looking for clues as to our location. A rocky, prickled field dissuaded us from attempting any short-cuts, and so we re-entered the murky depths and paddled on (backwards worked well).

Finally, about 2 hours in, and the end nowhere in sight, we bailed, crawling out and up the bank, our half-deflated li-los trailing behind us. No road to be seen, but we spied some powerlines and a hopeful-looking cluster of buildings, and made a beeline for them.

But THEN - you wanna hear the hitch? The field was covered in prickles. And the next field.
We painstakingly hopped and stumbled and tiptoed and squeaked our way over them. Han ended up tearing her t-shirt into strips and fashioning makeshift shoes for her and Laura.

Finally, we arrived at civilisation. We knocked at its door. It answered. An oldish lady came to our rescue, let us use the phone to call our lift (the dear father), and sympathically offered us shirts and water and towels and a lift to the main road. We declined the first two but accepted the lift and towels.

The sympathy began to wear a little thin, however, into some dressing-down:
"On li-los? Barefoot? What were you thinking?!"
"I'm sure you all deserve a flogging"..

And there were some awkward moments:
"So what schools do you all go to?" (Georgie, the youngest, leapt in - gamely saying she'd just finished at the Christian school last year. The rest of us exchanged looks which were a curious mix of hilarity and horror - we could not tell her that the majority of us were actually in our twenties!!)

But all's well that end's well - Dad arrived to rescue us, we waved goodbye to the angelic weathered face of civilisation, and limped home to hot showers and lunch. Happy days.


And I take it back. There is no reason to EVER reconsider river-floating. Even if your toes curl up and drop off due to frostbite and your feet are speared with thorns the size of your fist and you need to amputate..

Do it. It will still be worth it.

itsy-bitsy life..

"There is always an enormous temptation in all of life to diddle around making itsy-bitsy friends and meals and journeys for itsy-bitsy years on end. It is so self-conscious, so apparently moral, simply to step aside from the gaps where the creeks and winds pour down, saying, I never merited this grace, quite rightly, and then to sulk along the rest of your days on the edge of rage.

I won't have it. The world is wilder than that in all directions, more dangerous and bitter, more extravagant and bright. We are making hay when we should be making whoopee; we are raising tomatoes when we should be raising Cain, or Lazarus."

- Annie Dillard.

Man, the stuff this lady writes makes me go crazy inside. I reckon I'd go running through the streets throwing my hat into the air if I wore one!

What's not to laugh..

Today I went to a laughter yoga class run by a friend of mine. It was pretty damn funny. Everyone's fake laughs were so ridiculous that we'd keep bursting into real laughter! Plus we did lots of random things like pretending to be starting lawnmowers and being dragged away by them, or mad scientists, or posh tea-drinking chucklers.. all of which were very amusing.

We had to tell a story at the start about what made us laugh. The first thing that came to mind was myself. I thought of a couple of instances from two days ago which were small but entertaining:

I and a bunch of social work girls were driving up and down a road trying to find a particular service that just didn't seem to exist. Finally, as we were on our 4th lap, we spotted the name of the place in smallish print on some sliding doors. We all (especially me) screamed and pointed with joy..only to realise we appeared to be screaming and pointing at the two young guys walking by our window!! d'oh.

Later in the day I was walking home. Trotting up the hill in my fairly low heels, I somehow managed a major stumble, only just saving myself from face-planting. On the way back to vertical I glance at the car parked beside me and what do you know? There's two guys sitting in it, staring.

oh the gracefulness of me! haha

Our chain of thankfulness: very pastel, very happyhappyjoyjoys, very fun.

...couldn't resist

Lover [ly]

I am a little bit in love. Maybe more than a little bit. One of the current objects of my affection is the poet Mary Oliver. So hard to choose which to share here!

Next Time

Next time what I'd do is look at
the earth before saying anything. I'd stop
just before going into a house
and be an emperor for a minute
and listen better to the wind
or to the air being still.

When anyone talked to me, whether
blame or praise or just passing time,
I'd watch the face, how the mouth
has to work, and see any strain, any
sign of what lifted the voice.

And for all, I'd know more -- the earth
bracing itself and soaring, the air
finding every leaf and feather over
forest and water, and for every person
the body glowing inside the clothes
like a light.

Morning Poem

Every morning
the world
is created.
Under the orange

sticks of the sun
the heaped
ashes of the night
turn into leaves again

and fasten themselves to the high branches ---
and the ponds appear
like black cloth
on which are painted islands

of summer lilies.
If it is your nature
to be happy
you will swim away along the soft trails

for hours, your imagination
alighting everywhere.
And if your spirit
carries within it

the thorn
that is heavier than lead ---
if it's all you can do
to keep on trudging ---

there is still
somewhere deep within you
a beast shouting that the earth
is exactly what it wanted ---

each pond with its blazing lilies
is a prayer heard and answered
lavishly,
every morning,

whether or not
you have ever dared to be happy,
whether or not
you have ever dared to pray.


Black Oaks

Okay, not one can write a symphony, or a dictionary,

or even a letter to an old friend, full of remembrance
and comfort.

Not one can manage a single sound though the blue jays
carp and whistle all day in the branches, without
the push of the wind.

But to tell the truth after a while I'm pale with longing
for their thick bodies ruckled with lichen

and you can't keep me from the woods, from the tonnage

of their shoulders, and their shining green hair.

Today is a day like any other: twenty-four hours, a
little sunshine, a little rain.

Listen, says ambition, nervously shifting her weight from
one boot to another -- why don't you get going?

For there I am, in the mossy shadows, under the trees.

And to tell the truth I don't want to let go of the wrists
of idleness, I don't want to sell my life for money,

I don't even want to come in out of the rain.