For the first time quite like this, we sit out here in what we call the Tree House and anticipate the “heat wave.” It will have a hard time vanquishing the cool breeze coming down the hill through the woods.
This morning when I had finished taking most of the ivy off the Tree House trunks, I realized how much we had built into that treasured place. Horseshoes found in the woods, from my father’s pony, Bud, are on the uprights. Those in turn are our own trees, and the rafters, railings and braces are pieces of old split-rail fence we found here when we came in 1965.
The little bronze owl totem sitting on the south rail is one I was given when I received an Aubrey Watzek award at Lewis & Clark twenty years ago or so, and the rhododendrons in bloom just beyond him are wild ones transplanted there by my grandfather.
The little crouching wiseman just below the owl in the totem is echoed by the troll we had carved last year in the tree stump next to the structure. The whole was never planned but there it is, full to the peak with blessings, needed now. We started it right after 9/11, partly I suppose to help us through that time. And it goes on.
(This was for my Writing About Birds class that came here for lunch Friday after a morning at Audubon down the hill. We never got past the porch.)