Sunday, June 13, 2010

Fear Factor

Michael and I took advantage of the first blue-sky day in weeks by paddling down the Bow River.
Early into our canoe we saw a huge beaver swimming up stream towards us. What a gorgeous, well-adapted animal!

We practiced eddy turns and ferries, happily playing with the current until Michael wanted to duck into a small bay on river right. It was a tight turn to fit into the mouth of the bay, manage the current and clear a partially submerged tree. Not making the turn would mean we'd be sideways against the tree. Which would be bad. We had more than enough expertise and skill to successfully dodge the tree, but from where I was in the bow of the canoe, it looked like we were heading right for it.

I freaked out. There's no other way to put it. This weird voice came out of my gut and moaned at Michael to get away from the tree. Then I started to cry and hyperventilate! It took me a few minutes to get a grip. Not normally what I would expect from me. It's been almost 3 years since my accident, and there I was acting as if it were the day after. Circumstances looked similar enough that my body went into fear mode.
Fact is, we were not in danger. It was all in my mind--or my body.

What happened in the boat's got me realizing how powerful fear is. How its radioactivity can work away under the surface of things, hidden, and waiting. I'll be more patient now with clients who say, "We can't do that, we tried that once and it almost killed our company." You can rationalize that these circumstances aren't the same as before, that you aren't at real risk here, and it still won't matter until they've fully felt their fear, had their fit, then recovered their senses.

We spent the rest of the evening floating past incredible scenery, the scent of the wolf willow drifting in and out of notice. We saw an even bigger beaver close to the take out. He was as big as our old retriever Lucy! What a night. From the sublime to the ridiculous to the sublime.

Thursday, June 10, 2010

Guerilla Gardening II

It's 1 a.m. and teaming with rain here in the Rockies.

I just took a break from writing a loooonnnng and thorough report for clients on how to redesign their business to generate and reflect their new prosperity metrics. I popped out to our front garden and spread some poppy and cosmos seeds among the columbine, delphinium, lilies and lupins. Won't my sweetie be surprised! We had a few little bare patches that were calling out for some frondy blooms to tickle the shins of the perennials.

I love the rain.

During rain showers as a young girl I used to pry the giant, patio umbrella out of its heavy base then drag it to the back edge of the lawn. I'd kneel beneath it-- as dry and snug as a lady bug under a mushroom-- to inhale the verdure around me. Wetgreenandearth has a fragrance that's all its own.

Guerilla Gardening

I colluded with the wilderness tonight. While rain deluged the yard, I pulled rubber boots on over my dress socks and tailored trousers then set out to plant wildflower seeds while the neighbours slept.

Behind our house there is a wilderness corridor designed to help bears, cougars and deer find their way from one grazing site to the next without getting hit by a car or growled at by a dog. Recently, the town thought it wise to pave the (gravel) path that wound through this forested area. In so doing, they disturbed a good deal of ground on either side, which they "repaired" by hosing the area with grass seed and fertilizer. Perfect. All the hard work was done for me.

45 days later we should see the progeny of my midnight wanderings waving blooms at passersby. Thanks to Dawn Buie for the idea of stealth gardening!

p.s. I just checked I'd spelled "collude" properly and found the original Latin root of  colludere "have a secret agreement". Col means "together" and ludere is "to play." I like it. Forgot to mention that I let sidewalk rivers rush over the orange toes of my boots and fantasized I was a big giant standing in the Bow River making perfect surf waves.