Treehouse living

As a young child I was fascinated by treehouses, and envious of those who had huge trees in their yards. And I was even more envious of children whose parents (fathers) allowed them, or helped them, to build a treehouse. I wanted one, but the only tree in our yard was planted long after I was born. It barely supported a birdhouse, let alone a treehouse! The idea of a hideout, a place of my own, was heaven. I had little spots like that in the neighborhood, but others had as easy access as I did. A treehouse would have made access to others very difficult. Danny, down the street, had a "treehouse" that his dad built. It was an awesome structure, on stilts, about 10 feet off the ground. There was a rope ladder. I was invited to come up once, but was too scared of the climb.

Now I have my own treehouse. It is my small, cozy nest, and I have called it home for 22 years. It's a second floor apartment with views of only trees and rooftops. When I look out the windows of two rooms, it is leafy paradise that I see. Now, of course, the leaves are gone for awhile. The view from two rooms is of rooftops in my neighborhood, and the church steeple several blocks away. My cousin, who lived in Austria for awhile, said that the view of the rooftops reminded her of some of the views from apartment and hotel windows in some of the cities of Europe.

I like the views from my windows. And I like the feeling of being safely hidden, protected, and resting in the arms of the trees out my bedroom window. My treehouse...........I wouldn't want to live anywhere else.