Homebodies - Birds eye view

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Published on Saturday, September 16, 2017

Rita Friesen
The Neepawa Banner

Miss Daisy, Henry Hoover and I were walking down the Trans Canada Trail, the portion just south of the cemetery. To our left was the still gently flowing river, slowed by sundry beaver dams, and a dull green color. Underfoot were crushed acorns, to the right a few chokecherries, glowing burgundy red against the fading foliage. As we rounded the curve, a wave of cool, moist air rose to greet us, and then, a few steps further, out in the open, the air was once again warm and dry. The scents of the fall were rich and intoxicating. In the west was the beginning of another sunset. Rosy hues and golden streaks, perfection.

It was the cool calm contrasting with the sunlit warmth that took me back, many years back. It was a fall day, not unlike the ones we have been experiencing. On a whim, no, really it was a deep desire to overcome my fear of flying, I asked my beloved if he would arrange for us to take a flight over the Riding Mountains. I believed that the beauty of the fall tapestry would convince me that flying was fun. We had a friend, a retired park warden, that owned a small aircraft and was willing to take us up.

It was a gorgeous autumn day, and the scenery below was all that I imagined. Rich swathes of wheat and canola, green pasture lands, freshly fallowed fields and mountain greens. Ed was happily up front with the pilot and I was directly behind our gracious host. He dipped to point out a moose in the field, and I didn’t care to look. He swooped over a village, identifying landmarks, and I didn’t care to look. I quietly suggested that perhaps the turbulence was such that we should return to the airstrip. Both men, thoroughly enjoying themselves, assured me it was perfectly safe and the yo-yo motion was nothing to worry about. I had not taken into consideration the temperature variances of the green fields and the black fields could affect the air flow in the sky.

I must admit that the flight was wonderful. Let me amend that, the views on the flight were wonderful. I did keep my eyes open, swallowed frequently, and prayed mightily. One part of me was furious with the men for blithely enjoying every minute, and one part of me was envious of the men for blithely enjoying every minute. It was with a sense of relief and receiving a reprieve that I noted we were nearing the airstrip and preparing to land.

The real crunch came when we had safely touched down and the men had completed the tie down procedure, one turned to the other, and calmly stated – “Bit rough up there, wasn’t it?” Wasn’t it! That’s what I suggested minutes into the flight and they had both assured me I was overly concerned! They had the grace to grin conspiratorially as they walked to the car.

With one evening walk, I recaptured the laughter of years gone by.