For the Love of Turbulence

I had to make a trip to the airport last week. My oldest daughter was returning from sunny Queensland with her aunt. I was rather jealous that I wasn’t able to join her.

You see, I love to travel. Put me on a bus or a train, take me on a road trip or a boat cruise and I am in my element. But most of all I love to fly. I think I was born to fly. I get a rush from the force of the plane taking off as it pushes you back against  your seat. There is nothing much that can surpass that bird’s-eye view you get of your world below. But, the best part of flying is the turbulence.

Yes, you heard…er…read me correctly. I love turbulence. When everyone else is gripping the arms of their seats with white knuckles, there I am, whooping and laughing, having the time of my life. I think I have embarrassed a travelling companion or two with my exuberant outbursts over the years. It was the best up in the Top End, flying during the wet season–lots of turbulence.

I know, I know. You’re probably all thinking I’m crazy right now, aren’t you? Well, you’re probably right. But don’t we all have our own oddities? The kinds of things that make people look at us and shake their heads while hiding a smile. Are you game to share yours? Don’t be ashamed, you are in the company of other delightfully crazy people.

Published in: on 11th August, 2010 at 10:56 am  Comments (2)  
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A Blog on Fog

The other morning, I went for a walk just after six o’clock. It was still dark and a thick layer of fog blanketed my still-sleepy neighbourhood. I had my beanie pulled down hard over my ears, so they wouldn’t feel the chill breeze float past as I walked. I had gloves over my hands to stop them becoming stiff with cold. I had my scarf wrapped tight around my neck and covering my nose so as to avoid breathing in icy air. And I had my doona jacket on. I call it that because of it’s doona-like comfort and warmth.

So, there I was, walking briskly along the footpath, sweating it up in my doona jacket and admiring the misty morning view. I could only see about three streetlights in either direction. Without them, my visibility went down to about fifteen to twenty metres. I know some people find fog a bit creepy, but I absolutely adore it. I find it magical and mysterious, even ethereal (oh, I love that word).

Once I was on a red-eye flight from Darwin, which flew into Sydney at dawn. As we descended all I could see was the tops of the sky-scrapers through the fog, like a city floating amongst the clouds. Other-wordly.

The other day, I would have walked through the unlit reserve behind our home in this fog, except wisdom made me stick to the more visible path. I came home mumbling silly poetry about fog to my husband, who had just woken up, and really could not comprehend my dizzy rhyme. (He is not a morning person, so very understandibly said “huh?”) There were so many words to rhyme with fog. I mentioned logs and bogs and grog. Suddenly, I felt inspired to write a poem about the fog–an Ode to Fog, if you will.

That evening, when it came time for me to pen my work of amazing verse, I was trumped by a dear friend who sent me their own delightfully inane poem. And so, I think I will share that with you instead of mine. I would love to hear other’s foggy poems, if you would like to share, or even just your thoughts about fog.

AN ODE TO FOG

While walking in the fogginess
Rug-up and watch your feet
For your feet might meet a doggy-mess
And your throat might feel a frogginess
Which will end in such a grogginess
That you’ll go right back to sleep

© 2010 Brice F Sword

Disclaimer: Any resemblence to real poetry is purely accidental.

Published in: on 30th July, 2010 at 1:06 pm  Comments (8)  
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