The Rope Swing

Mix two kids, a husband, a barking dog, a wide sandy beach, and a bending tree with a rope swing by a sparkling river, and you have a recipe for summer magic. Under the hot sun, the lone rope hanging from a tree limb over the river pulls us like a magnet. It draws children, men, dogs, and even me on an 80 degree late-summer afternoon.

My two children, Dylan and Nate, will tell you how I avoid the water in New England. You’d never know that I grew up and spent most of my life here. I worship the sun and revel in 90 degree heat waves while everyone else melts and complains. My idea of heaven in New England is a hot tub, not an unheated pool.

Yet, as a kid, I actually swam at Hampton Beach. I’d race towards the ocean 'til I was knee deep and launch into a forward flip so there was no turning back from the ice-cold water. I’d stay in 'til I was numb and blue in the lips. Maybe that’s my problem. I must have given myself frostbite and have yet to recover. I also was born in Pensacola, Florida, which I’ve never gotten over either.

But that darn rope swing is way too tempting. It literally dares me. I hear it. “Go on. Grab me,” it says. “Take a leap of faith. Show your kids you know how to have fun.”

I can’t take that kind of ribbing from a swing. I grab hold and, just to show how brave I am, I climb up on the nearby log to give myself a better jump. And I’m off. I swing out, out, out… I dangle in space… I pass the point where I should be letting go. I fly back to the bank, seemingly faster than I left it. Mike pushes me away from the jagged limb protruding from the bank where I’m headed, and I’m back on the log where I started. The kids double over with laughter and Flash barks and barks and won’t stop barking.

Okay. I can do this. My timing was just off a bit. I can still show my family what tough stuff I’m made of. I can beat this rope. I know how to have fun. I jump again, swing out, out, out, and this time I let go as I reach that magical point of weightless suspension—and it is a magical moment, but gone already. Freefalling, freefalling down, down, down into the murky, freezing-cold depths. This isn’t a river. It’s a melted glacier!

Rising to the surface, my mouth forms a frozen “O.” I can’t breathe. I can barely squeak, “So c-c-c-cold!” as I tread water. No air seems to be making it back into my stiff lungs. Mike, Dylan  and Nate are having trouble breathing as well, they’re laughing so hard. As I hyperventilate, they point at me, “Look how Mom’s mouth makes an ‘O!’” Flash barks and barks and barks. At least my dog worries about me.

There’s only one thing to do and that’s get the heck out of this water and fast! I practically explode onto the beach. Wrapped in a nubby towel, I content myself with simply watching my 9-year-old son, 11-year-old daughter, and age-not-to-be-discussed husband taking turn after turn on the rope swing. Totally immersed in the moment and the magic, they’re not bothered at all by the temperature of the water.

I sense a new directive as my limbs begin to warm in the sun and the reflected heat of the sand. I pull out my Panasonic and begin taking picture after digital picture of each and every leap. If only I can freeze their magical moments, capture the point where time stands still and the body floats in anticipation of free fall. This will be my ultimate magical summer moment.

As we got ready to leave the beach for the day, the sun was lower in the sky, the light bending softly toward the rope swing, hanging quietly all alone by the reflective river. It shone in the light, a beacon in the woods. I sensed it was daring me to come back and try again.

And I’ll be ready for it next time. I can beat that rope swing. I can leap again and again and again into that incredibly cold water just like my kids and my husband. I can be a bigger part of that rope swing summer magic. I can wear a wetsuit….

By Nanette Masi, UNH Cooperative Extension Master Gardener

For more information call the UNH Cooperative Extension's Family, Home & Garden Center's Info-line (toll free) at 1-877-398-4769 or send us an email. Volunteers are available to answer your questions Monday through Friday 9:00am to 2:00 p.m.

09/05/2006