Maximum mortification, or. . .

I’m really not dressed for this, . . . but why let that stop me?

When we were at Liza’s homecoming presentation to the Parole Rotary club, we were invited to attend the annual family picnic that Saturday. The hosts had restored a home that was originally built in the 1600’s, and then moved on to improving the property. Leon built a wonderful 40-foot (diameter) pavilion where we dined, put in a pool and a hot tub in a grotto, restored the corn crib for a storage shed, and recently built a tower for the antique windmill he purchased and moved to the property.

Naturally enough, a crowd gathered when Leon started explaining the adventure of obtaining the windmill and building the tower. Standing there, I was thinking how much fun it would be to climb the tower, but I was certain that wasn’t on the day’s plan. (Liability and all that.)

Then Leon went to get a ladder, and extended an open invitation for anyone who wanted to climb the tower to do so. Unfortunately, I was in a skirt (my standard summer garb) and my clogs-not exactly the thing to wear when climbing. I said something to that effect, and one of the other women said go ahead, don’t let that stop me. When another woman agreed, I headed for the ladder. James beat me to the ladder, but decided about halfway up he wasn’t going to the top, and stepped aside. I vaguely heard some joking going on, but was focused on climbing. There is a bit of a trick in getting through the opening in the deck (not to mention needing to watch for the windmill catching the wind while figuring out how to get through), but I managed and soon found myself sitting 52 feet above ground and wishing there was a railing around the platform.

Of course, having climbed that far, I couldn’t bypass Leon’s invitation (challenge?) to stand up. You can see from my pose here that I was 100% comfortable, but I did it. I found out later that Leon enjoys challenging his guests with the climb. The last big gathering had seven people attempt the climb, three make it to the top, and NONE of them were willing to stand up. I got lots of points for that!

Then it came time to climb down- much more of a challenge. The pattern was pull my skirt back so I could find the next peg, carefully step down-making sure that I didn’t slide out of my clog, unhook my skirt from the peg I’d just passed, and repeat about fifty times! . . . I think the pegs were something like 9” apart, and the tower was 52 feet tall, with the bottom ten feet using a ladder.

When I got back to terra firma, all Liza could say was, “Mom, your skirt was. . .” (You didn't think I was the one mortified, did you?)
Yes, and was I supposed to let that stop me?

Fortunately, the Rotarians seemed much more impressed by the fact that I’d made the climb than concerned about it being made in a skirt. (It could’ve been worse, Liza. I could’ve gotten stuck on the way down and perched up there, with my skirt blowing in the wind, until a hook & ladder truck got there to rescue me. Now that would really have been embarrassing!)

I made the climb! It’s another marker of how much better I’m doing physically. I couldn’t have made the climb up and back down even two years ago. I did feel my quads & hamstrings a bit later that day and the next. Controlled descent takes much more muscular control & strength than climbing up.

But I think when we build our watchtower, we won’t put a windmill on it! It’ll be much more relaxing if I don’t have to constantly be aware of where the blades are and watch for it rotating in the wind. Or maybe we’ll just put a platform in a tall tree. (Where’s Grandma? Did you look in the tree? Mother, don’t let the kids up there!!! Now, that will be fun!)