farmdoc's blog post number 192

It was Thursday 16 October around 6:30 p.m., just after darling Emily had finished kneading her dough. She, Jono and I headed north along Swanston Street. Two blocks. To Hardrock, where they would climb and I would watch. At reception, money was exchanged for entry. Also for harnesses and climbing shoes which Emily and Jono quickly donned. They strode off to climb, and I sought a seat. By the time I found one and slung off my backpack, Emily was high high up – almost at the roof of that tall space. Yesterday I wrote how she’s a bread baking natural. I could tell because I know a bit about that art. But though I know zilch about climbing, I thought she was a natural at that too. Climbing up: hand holds, foot holds, heave. Abseiling down: scoot, land, triumph. We were there a couple of hours. Emily and Jono each did a few climbs – easy at first to warm up, then harder and harder, then at the end easier to warm down. So high they were almost over the moon. And though I remained on the ground, I was over the moon too: seeing Emily climb with adroitness, determination, and, not least, enjoyment, filled me with pleasure and pride. Then it was home to her place for a Jono-cooked meal and an Emily-baked loaf. Perfection.