Monday, July 9, 2012

Climbing A Tree

About a month back we went on a short hike. A break from the noise, quiet and vast views was just what I needed.

Corn colored grass glistened with the sun’s rays, swayed in the wind, calling for me to run through and fall into its soft cushion.

The views are always spectacular from up high. I can see why birds and crows always find themselves on the uppermost part of a tree or building. It’s the perfect lookout and it feels liberating, close enough to everything, yet in solitude amongst the clatter.

On our way back down the hill, I stopped at the oak trees and took some photos and then I got the bug to climb up the tree and sit in the crevice that you see here. My significant other said he could push me up by my bum, while I leapt up to get hold of the trunk. I said, no, no. I don’t want to go up that way. I’d rather climb it from the fallen branch on the backside. It looked easy enough. However, when I started to amble up the large trunk, I realized that I could still fall and I had to steady myself. It wasn’t quite as easy as it looked. I took my time. It wouldn’t have been a long fall, but it wouldn’t have felt good either and may have knocked the wind out of me. Who knows, I could have sprained a wrist. I went slowly, straddling the wide trunk, and then bringing my feet up the center once I’d found my balance. I was nervous, but I kept going on all fours, hugging the tree until I reached the spot. I had to negotiate a large clump of dried branches as I climbed over a large branch in my way. And then I made it.

My childhood home had a large pine tree on the side of the house. I used to love climbing to the crook and sit there for a bit. I was more daring in my younger years. I would swing and climb. I especially enjoyed climbing onto the chimney of our house and up to the roof. I jumped off the roof a few times. My older boy cousin was probably the instigator. We’d play with toy guns and go up to my grandparent’s, and again we’d find our way atop a roof; this time, though it was the roof of the little house my grandfather had built to store tools, antique furniture, and other odds and ends.

I was a bit of a tomboy growing up and at the same time I loved my dolls and play oven and other girl things. And mom dressed me up in frilly dresses and she also dressed me in horrid boy suits. She may have only done this once or twice. I was humiliated going to school in a boy suit.

I still have an adventurous side. I’m more careful now because I’m not as flexile as I used to be and I’m mindful of the creeks and crunches in my bones. I’m glad I climbed the tree that day, while I still can.


jiturajgor said...

Happy Tom-boying Rebb,once gain,for all the good in life.

Rebb said...

Happy Happy to you, Jitu. : ) Thank you very much for stopping by and reading.