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 * Check here to read stories or poems that Mrs. Davis has written, sometimes she writes adventures about me. **

 The Day I went Rafting By Janis Davis Have you ever floated down a raging river on a rubber boat? I have! I went with my son and his two friends. We were white water rafting down the Ocoee River near Chattanooga, Tennessee. I was not planning on participating, because I feared that I would fall out of the raft and hit one of the huge boulders jetting from the swift moving water, but somehow I found the courage at the last possible minute.

As I was signing the boys up at the rafting station, my mouth somehow opened and asked, “Do you have any more spots in the boat?” The charming young guide answered, “Yes, we have one more spot, would you like to join us?” That mouth of mine opened again, as if it had a will of its own, and said, “I would love to!” My heart immediately started beating faster, Thump Thump, Thump, then my stomach started knotting, Twist Twist. My mind was screaming “DON’T DO IT!” But that unruly mouth of mine seemed to have all the control. So about thirty minutes later, I was riding up a mountain on a rickety old bus in full rafting gear, a bright orange life jacket securely fastened to my body, a safety helmet strapped to my head, and a bright yellow paddle in my trembling hand. As I rode up the winding road, I was thinking that I needed to buy some strong duct tape to put over that big mouth of mine.

About twenty minutes later, we arrived to our unloading destination, where we would start our adventure down the swift moving rapids. Except, there were no swift moving rapids! There was only a small lake, whose gentle moving current slowly flowed down to a dam. Then the water violently tumbled over it and dropped another twenty feet! Confused, I looked to the boys offering them a worried face which projected the fear I was feeling. The guide did not calm my nerves, when he jokingly stated, that we were going over the waterfall. Fortunately, we did not have to fly over the falls. The reason he started in the lake was to allow us to practice steering the boat. It was pretty fun. We were a great team; we learned to turn left, right, and to slow down. I was thinking this is going to be easy, like sliding down a giant water slide. After practicing in the lake, we took our raft out of the water and carried it down to the other side of the dam. My eyes protruded from its socket, when I saw what was on the other side. The white water rapids, angry as disturbed hornets, were gushing through huge jagged rocks! Once again I was thinking about buying the duct tape to close that mouth of mine.

Eventually I conquered my fear, and had a magnificent adventure. The guide instructed everyone in the rubber raft brilliantly. We navigated through the powerful river like we were experts, excluding the one occasion where I lost my balance and slammed into one of the boys. The force almost knocked him out the fast moving boat. He glared down at me, as I was flopping wildly trying to get myself back in a vertical position; he chuckled as he watched me struggling back to my rightful spot. Everyone else was also having a belly hurting laugh about my plummet to the bottom of the boat. The rest of the trip was wonderful, the rustic scenery was as thrilling as the white water. We steered our little vessel through some tricky areas as huge white waves crashed the yellow boundaries of the boat soaking everyone inside it. Finally, our raft found the calm waters at the end of the last set of rapids, and drifted into the unloading dock. I stepped out of the boat physically exhausted yet somehow mentally energized. I was already planning my next trip! A little while later, I was back in the bus bumping and twisting down the mountain. There was a smile on my face formed by that glorious mouth of mine. Duct tape is no longer an item my shopping list.

I used to make pottery and sell it at art and craft shows, I wrote the following poem to remind me of how wonderful it was to play in the mud!


 * Clay **

Magnificent marvelous mud, A moist slumbering form. Inspiration awakens imagination, And infinite art is born. Squeeze it, Turn it, Twist it, Burn it, Forever converted to stone. Creative compliant clay, Nature’s majestic gift. Ornamentation from transformation, Delivered by those not miffed ~Janis Davis // ﻿ //