Perceptions

Earlier this summer, while circling my neighborhood, I walked by a utility pole that had a Virginia creeper starting up. I'd seen it grow the year before, unattended, neglected, ready to be ripped down by any pole climber needing to attend to the lines above. I thought this year it needed a new home and I could help it out.

Under the cover of darkness, after my DH came home decked out in his finest biking duds, complete with spelunking light, I asked him to accompany me on a walk-about.

I told him prudence was key to that night's mission. He assured me he would be the poster boy of discretion.

As we walked down the street, he in his reflective cycling vest, me is dark jeans and a dark T-shirt, he still with his cycling helmet and halogen light on, me in crepe soled shoes, I kind of got the feeling that maybe this wasn't going to work.

We pressed on.

Turning the corner at the prescribed place, I heard voices. Darn. Neighbors. An ordinary mongo treasure hunter looks for solitude. Here I seemingly had an audience.

I walked up to the utility pole and stooped hoping to look like I was tying a disorderly shoelace as I rummaged around the base.

I asked for back up. I needed more light. Obligingly DH shone some light on the subject - a halogen light from his helmet. GAWD! I felt like I was at opening night for a movie!

"Discretion" I hissed.

I dug out a root of the Creeper and tucked it away, stretched out and tried to look nonchalant about the whole thing.

I took DH's arm and whistled off into the night, hoping that the neighbors across the street thought I was a drug dealer rather than a character from Adaptation.