I've always had a complicated relationship with trees. They've listened to me cry, supported me while I read countless books, quietly let me talk through my thoughts with no judgement and they've held me safely when I was broken. They've hidden me from danger and helped me breathe. They've centered me and watched me fall apart without a sound. They've been my refuge in a world that was often so harsh I could barely imagine living through another day. They've been my constant friends, my lifelong companions and my greatest joy. That's why I have always wanted to have my very own treehouse, the treehouse that heals.
In my backyard right now, even as I'm typing this, a treehouse is coming to life right before my very eyes. My husband, as always, is nurturing my inner child, the one that barely had a glimmer but can now shine like the sun. It was always the plan. When he put up the fence around the vegetable garden he added two posts that were the promise of a future treehouse. All this time they have just been sitting there waiting for this day to come and here it is at last. Is it frivolous to build this before we build the raised herb garden? Yes. Is it irresponsible to make this when we have fences to fix? Absolutely. But, sometimes, the treehouse is more important. The food will feed us but the love will keep us alive.
The floor is on now and I was able to climb up and stand there looking at the view. I can see the mountain in the distance that climbs out of our valley into the rest of the world. I can see my vegetable garden from a clearly different perspective, like the birds that fly overhead. I can see the top of the trellis that holds the squashes and gourds. I can watch the very tips of the nodding heads of the sunflowers as the pollinators buzz through them. I can enjoy the antics of the chickens in their run without them knowing I'm there. I can feel the joy we have put into everything we have built here on our tiny farm. I can imagine what it used to look like when it was just a mass of weeds and no trees, no promise of a treehouse that heals. I can imagine springtime and seeing the fruit trees in bloom. I can look forward to evenings sitting up there sharing a laugh and a game with my husband or maybe a couple of friends.
Now let's talk about the building itself. Just over five feet in the air it sits with the promise of a sandbox underneath for any child who might venture into our realm to play. Stairs will allow us to climb up and inside where a railing will embrace us and keep us safe. On the side facing our nearest neighbors we will put the planned cloth shade screen for privacy and beauty, not a wall that blocks the air but a lovely screen chosen for the joy it will bring. The two trees we have coming in fall will be planted one on each side to make it feel like you're actually in a tree, in time once they grow big enough. The tongue and groove floor will gleam in the starlight and the rough-cut cedar posts are as close to being a tree as a board can get. The roof will protect us from the sun and the rain with cedar shakes on one side and steel on the other. I can't wait to sit up there and hear the raindrops hit the steel roof.
I wasn't going to write this until the project was finished because I wanted to add a photo and I wanted the build itself to be a surprise and allow the people around us to watch it unfold but, sometimes, the excitement can be too much to bear so here I am sharing my dream with all of you.
I've always had a complicated relationship with trees but one that I cherish. They're the friends that have never let me down, never hurt me, always trusted me, listened to me and given me their strength without question. I look forward to continuing this relationship and building new memories of peace in the treehouse that heals. #treehouse #trees #healing #nature
