Up in the air: Ten treehouse holidays - for pirates, parents and eternal teenagers

Thinking about being in a substantial Tree House, being up in a Tree, and hearing a song about it to the Tune of The Drifters', UP ON THE ROOF .......

The pic up top & on the Daily Mail link show very grown-up treehouses. The red ? link is basically about how to build a shed up a tree.
My favourite book-reading place was an old door I'd hauled up a tree with the assistance of my brothers & wedged in a suitable gap between three branches. All our constuction projects were without the benefit of adult supervision - no faster way of learning to use a hammer than getting a very sore thumb with under the nail turning black & blue! We made treehouses, go-karts, rafts & dens out of scavenged materials. In these days of "helicopter parenting" it wouldn't be allowed, but we had a great time & now have good memories. One of the best was an underground den, which we excavated & roofed over with some old corrugated iron sheets we "found", the whole thing was covered with lumps of turf & was invisible - the local cow-herder was non too pleased when one of his cattle wandered over it, fell through & needed a tow-out with ropes & a tractor. Oooops!
It was hard to sit on my hands when my son & his friends started on a tree house. I was dying to join in, terrified they'd hurt themselves/fall out of the tree/argue & murder each other with claw hammers. They did a grand job - it's still there & being used by kids 30 years on & right at the top of the tree still flutters a tattered rag, the remnants of Robert Jones's red Y-fronts. Don't ask - I didn't.
 

The old timers at the hardware store whittled and told stories that inspired Toms and Hucks to ask for tool kits for birthday presents and coins saved from a paper route to buy their first Barlow knife so they could build tree houses, rafts, and underground clubhouses. They threw out old crates and damaged goods in a scrap pile and probably laughed as my "pirate" friends and I scavenged materials to build our "dreams". I once made a pair of wings inspired by Hawkman comic books and jumped from the roof of our old house and fortunately landed in a forsythia bush that broke my fall. I learned I couldn't fly, how gravity worked, and my Paw Paw shook his head and said "I betcha don't do that again."  Haze, your story rings so many old and treasured memories of learning by doing. And even the failures were successes. You just had to remember to get your Tetanus shot.    

The treehouse evokes the lazy, hazy days of childhood summer where we were able to go any place our imaginations led us.  Unbelievably there is one not far from us and when we ride by, how I yearn to just give it a try...........they'd be calling 911 to get the crazy old lady out of the tree, that is IF I got up there.........but it is just one of those things that reminds you of time before computers, television, money worries; a time when you were told, no, not even told, ran outside to play.

good morning all! tree houses~love 'em~

Andy- That episode of Twilight Zone when the kids play kick the can and become children again is one of my favs. I wrote a poem about a man named Koma, who goes to a mountain and steps through the mist and becomes a boy again and again and again. I may be wrong but I tend to think of aging as becoming young again only with some acquired wisdom. 

Tommy -- our kids, as a present one year, got me all the episodes of The Twilight Zone and yes, I remember that one well...............if only.  
 
Actually, you may be right.  You care less and less about *things* and more about people.  The finest compliment I received from own children is that they say, I never forgot what it was like to be a kid (possibly because I'm so immature?  :)  )

Tommy Typical~ God be with the days when kids thought they could fly without being under the influence of drugs or alcohol. My nephew, 3 years old had climbed up onto the windowsill in my lounge, eyed up a hanging chair suspended from the beams & my sister & I could see him thinking Trapeeze Artist - in a second, he launched himself & we were so wetting ourselves with laughter that we were incapable of attending to any injuries sustained.
I'm delighted with today's topic, I keep laughing as I go back to tom-boy girl with 3 brothers to boss, always band-aids on my knees & elbows - it's a good place to be.

If we attach our true self to only our bodies in their present configuration, we can forget that we are made of some very old special "stuff". stardust and But being childlike is up there deep in the old noggin full of ideas and embracing the moment is what children do best and taking an old stick and turning it into something magical is what children of God do best...create.  That was what Jiminy Cricket was trying to tell Pinnochio, wasn't it?  Create yourself. You are more than a block of wood and a treehouse is more than a pile of lumber, it is magic. On to the container of Merlin's elixir...ie, the coffee maker. 

Today while I am trying to sell fine art in a recession, my husband and daughter's big plan is to put a floor in the "treehouse." It's mostly tree... a rather welcoming one, with several large branches spreading out... perfect place for a little rear end to perch. My little girl and her friends want to outfit it with carpet and furniture (an idea I nixed), while the little boys in the neighborhood see it as a perfect fort for their ongoing battle games.

I do worry about kids falling out of the tree. But I worry more about kids who don't ever have the opportunity to fall out of a tree at all. Kids who never take the the risks that return the greatest rewards... a sense of accomplishment, and ability, the knowledge that even if it was a questionable idea, "we did it! and survived!"

Keep in mind I'm talking treehouses, here...

Tommy I hear they are having a Guy Clark look alike contest in Austin next
year.
Don't bother to snopes it. Here's to you and all your birds of a feather. 
 
 
http://www.youtube.com/watch#!v=fAuI0q6bqLU&feature=related  ;

 Try it again, always trust your cape http://www.youtube.com/watch#!v=fAuI0q6bqLU&feature=related

the song is worth the trouble...
  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fAuI0q6bqLU

Paolos- thank ye kindly... you made a grown man cry. He and Jerry Jeff and Delbert and Mr. Redbone, et al tell the stories that warm the cockles and make a cold PBR taste extry special.

Thanks, Paolos.    You should never ever ever have a couple of drinks and listen to DESPERADOES WAITING ON A TRAIN. I am partial to Jerry Jeff's version, but  I expect GC's would have the same effect.  Today I renew my childlike belief that doves will fly near me and that I will overcome all of my lack of  coordination and bring a few to earth.  This year the Eaurasian Collared Dove (aka ringneck) doesn't count against your limit.                                    For those who are interested, the greatest challenge ( aside from willing the birds to come)  is the weather.  Some folks may be putting up their white shoes, but we have about six more weeks in the 90s.  We didn't see any of Earl's rain, but it seems every year, after hundreds of doves have been hanging around for weeks, along comes the breeze and slight chill of hurricane talkand goodbye to the doves.  There is an added lagniappe, if one with strings attached. Some DNR official got tired of goose droppings on his or her deck and we have a 30 day season on the black and white golf course marauders, with a daily limit of thirty birds. Trouble is, while doves and geese may well turn up in the same field, you'd better not be shooting at the big guys with lead shot in your possession.  I am counting on what I call the two gun solution.

well, I had to go and do it.  Maybe it's better to get it out of the way early in the day. But I warned you   http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=buf6P0V45rg&feature=related

I LIED                                Daily limit on geese is FIFTEEEN BIRDS.  Sorry to be monopolizing.

 
That's quite a line up, Willie.  Almost as good as ringnecks, white shoes
and Blue Ribbon beer. I had heard that dove season opened today. 
 
Our intrepid constables set up a speed trap along
side some local lakes, and it appears their only reason was to protect the
growing horde of geese.  They should raise
the limit to 300 in my opinion.  Stock up the soup kitchen. Nothing better than
a nice plump goose and some razzleberry
dressing.
 
Ivan, if I could find a decent cut of Up On The
Roof I'd post it for you.  But I'd wager you know all the words and you're
giving the Krewe a taste of it yourself today. 
 
Up on the roof, under the board walk wherever there
is an opportunity, those drifters are so spontaneous, so
unpredictable.

Andy, back to yesterday, thanks for the compliment. As far as doing one yourself-GO FOR IT!!
Mine is made out of wood amd painted with minimal coloring, black, red and white ala tne northwest natives mode of highlighting the features. Some tribe used only red and black. The next three are going to be for Christmas presents for my tjree offspring and are going to be modern in order to reflect their tastes and hobbies.
Please send a picture of yours when it is completed.

There is a country inn (Banning Mills, GA), Bed and
Breakfast, nearby, that is nestled in the forest.  It features what they call
screaming eagle zip line canopy tours.  I envision a tour as a slowly paced,
time consuming, feet on the ground, take in the sights, taste the food, breathe in the air kind of event.  This is a
hold your breath and don't blink kind of event.  It is at times high speed (60
mph) and continuously connected in the trees (60 to 300 ft high). The three lines range from 1000 ft to 1/2 mile long.  The tours take from 90 minutes to 5 hrs.  If you are ever in
need of a monkey rush this is the one place to go....
 
http://www.historicbanningmills.com/

rwh1 -- I downloaded the picture; amazing -- I can't tell from the picture, but is each piece independently hanging or are they connnected somehow (wire, fishing line?)  My class doesn't start for awhile and I don't have my own kiln, but I may give it a shot -- love to see your others wihen you do them.  Please post them as well....it will be interesting to see how you integrate the holiday along with tastes and hobbies --  you must be a not-so-secret artist.  Thanks for sharing.

Back to childhood, but not treehouses -- my grandson, Will <the one who is fighting my evils with his Star Wars light saber -- at least in my mind> believed he could fly.  He still may think so -- he's 8.  He came over one day with his black eye mask and cape on and jumped all over the place, convinced that if he could only get that jump a little longer, a little higher, he'd be aloft.
 
I did a sculpture of him -- a little kid with the mask, the cape and in the back, another little boy holding it up :)

PAOLOS:  No Work today, but most of the Krewe stops in on the Sabbath to play and knock around, and some times we all go over to the Bocce Club and play a few Matches ... today Paolos, in addition, we have stocked the Larder with Blue Ribbon Beer ... Iced down in Half-Cut Oil Drums, generously carpeted with Rock Salt !!!   Have tried singin' Soul with the Krewe, but there are only six Negroes in this Town, which is very appropriately called, TacoVille ... and as well as Meskins Sing, The Harmony just isn't Right for Soul or Doo Wop ... but we have fun ... It all goes to Conjunto after the first Six-Pak anyway, which is a Good Thing !!! We've even got one Wrench who plays a Mean Trumpet ... drives the neighbors nutz, but who cares ... and the Accordion Player has been warned that the first time he cuts down on, Lady of Spain, he's gonna get shot ...
 
Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how did you like they Play ???

BTW Paolos ... That Chorus Line is,  REDNECKS ... WHIE Socks and, ... Blue Ribbon Beer ... 

Our backyard has a thirty foot hill, and on its top is what we call the Tree House.  It is more of a platform with stairs and a railing, but it has provided delight to children for two generations.  My wife's two daughters, now in their early thirties, played on it throughout their childhood.  When we married thirteen years ago, my daughter was nine, and joined the ranks of those who had used it for joyous tea parties. 
It lay empty from human use for some years until the girl next door hit grade school age and timidly asked if she might use it.  And so there have been more tea parties and even a birthday or two celebrated on it.  The hill is high enough that I can inspect our roof and monitor the aging of the shingles. 
When we married, my wife had two cats, Cotton and Baby.  Bother were neutered.  Baby was female and shy, the sort who walked along the edge of rooms.  Cotton, all white, was male and burly.  When he walked to the front door from a jaunt outside, he walked like Perry Como reborn in feline form.  He was the most sincerely affectionate cat I have ever met.  He loved to be in my lap, place a front paw on each shoulder, and lick and nibble my chin.  If he was out all night, he would be on the tree house in the morning, ready to come tumbling down the hill to the joys of breakfast and love. 
Baby and Cotton succumbed to cancer years ago caused by something the drug companies put in cat vaccines to make them work better.  They had repeating lumps that did not cease after surgery.  We could not abide their continued suffering, and so had them put to sleep.  On his last day, I carried Cotton up the hill for one last time on his beloved tree house.  It was a hard thing to do, but a right thing.  Their ashes are buried near the base of the tree house, and their shades bless it still. 
Tree houses are a good thing.  I posted a picture of our tree house (http://www.petermanseye.com/photos/278661).

Oh yes, and our grandson who lives in town, now age five, and our grandson who visits from California, age three, also play on it.  Its history continues.

The URL does not seem to work.  Odd.  The picture is under my photos.

LYNN830:
Your link didn't work for me but I clicked on your avatar and saw your great tree house.
Have lots of fun up there with those kids.

Andy- No kiln? No problem. Get the kids cutting out their shapes from tough cardboard boxes, paint them up, skewer a hole top & bottom , then 3 coats of outdoor quality varnish, espeially on the edges. Thread 'em up on a high break-strength fishing line. 'Cos they are a bit lightweight, you need something hefty at the bottom end -  plenty of possibilities at your local car breakers/scrapyard. A visit there will have them wanting to learn welding & soldering to make art out of junk.

The "I can fly" thing - DUMBO!

Lynn-- what a lovely story story and I love the treehouse -- it's posted under your pictures now...wonderful that a whole new generation of children can enjoy it.
 
Hazel -- thanks for the tip -- two of the ten would really enjoy that :)

  Well, the interesting topic of treehouses got me looking at other 'weird architecture' , that's how I put it to my browser.  Wow! I saw alot- though not so far any treehouses.  Just type in 'weird architecture', tons of lovely pictures.  But here's one for Hazel, in Wales!  
-(okay, everybody else can look too)-      http://unusual-architecture.com/low-impact-woodland-house-wales-uk/

auri~ thanks for that link - what a fabulous place. Magical! If you knocked on the door, you'd expect a hobbit to answer it.

auri -- me too -- thanks for the link -- it looks like Hansel and Gretel would be knocking on that door any minute -- what a cool place

Remember , you are neveer too old to have a happy childhood. And don't forget words from Robert Service in his poem LAUGHTER "Don't pay life the compliment to take it seriously".
 
Andy I just use a small chain and small eye screws to connect the pieces.

My Very Favorite Poet, Robert Service .......

Andy,  never  apologize  for  "remembering  what  it  was  like  to  be  a  kid."   Innocence  is  one  of  the  good  things  that  gets  suppressed  and  ultimately  destroyed  as  we  get  older,   but  that  is  a  shame.  We  can  be  mature, and  yet  hang  onto  our  inner  child.   That  inner  child  represents  our  ability  to  create  hope  where  otherwise  there  may  be  none,  it  allows  us  to  dance  under  the  full  moon  just  because  we're  happy  to  be  alive.

  Oh, Bert, that is a five-heart comment, though I can't find any hearts on my computer keyboard!  How is that possible??                                                                                       So there are artists  and writers here!   Great for me to discover...That's food for me.  (Also food is food for me, listening to you all I'll learn to cook yet)-   Um, Tommy Typical, do you suppose we could read your poem??  If a person changes a few commas and puts in an asterisk or two, will the evil Peterman Empire still own your poem???

Bert, that is beautiful.
 
rwh1 -- thanks again -- looking closer, I could see that they were somehow linked -- nice idea

auri- here you go-   

Koma Me

A virtuous
man, Koma, waited forty years to sit with the elders…

The sages
assembled around the fire at night speaking of hallowed things & told
mystical tales.

Sometimes
they would read from the ancient scrolls and Koma and God would listen with
utter delight as the years passed from the time he was a boy until he became a
man.

Often he
would look up at the stars and listen to the roar of the sea. He could always
smell the sweet hibiscus in the cool dark air while the wise ones spoke of God
and life.

Gazing at
the distant mountains that surrounded the village one night, he marveled at the
foggy vapor that hung on top of the peaks wondering what lies beyond what one
observes.

When he took
his place around the fire and spoke of unknown things the old philosophers
laughed and said that it was nothing new then promptly sent him to gather
firewood.

A romantic
dreamer lives with us the elders all agreed. He must learn to teach the
children to survive and lead the tribe in the ways that are tried and true.

Koma learned
exactly what to say repeating the familiar stories as he gained great favor
with the wise ones and the children who listened to him with utter delight.

When he was
old he walked to the misty mountain one morning and a strong wind blew an
opening in the haze and he could not believe what his aged eyes witnessed.

For without
the fog he could see forever, valleys and mountains afar and there was smoke
from infinite fires from endless villages filled with thinkers full of tales. He
started to turn back but the mist was recurring and he stepped where he had not
been before and Koma disappeared in the smoke of the mountain.

Koma walked
for forty years and sat with the elders of many tribes and the multitude of
sages assembled around the infinite fires at night and spoke of hallowed things
and told mystical tales.

Sometimes
they would read from the ancient scrolls and Koma and God would listen with
utter delight as the years passed from
the time he was a man until he became a boy again and again and again...

Tommy Koma Typical

  Tommy Typical-     Wow.  Fractals in fractals, birthing fractals, re-inventing self, again and again, oh yes.  Thank You.

Tommy -- thank you, a keeper

The Drifters...1962  "Up On the Roof"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7F_opWg9_qI

Paolos: the screaming eagle zip line sounds so appealing it makes me a fancy a Labor Day trip. I had the chance to do that in Costa Rica but didn't. It might make me score badly on certain psychologic profiles. Possibly the only redeeming thing about western Tennessee is that there are wonderfully paved highly rural zero occupancy roads where I can push my Boxster to 150 mph and listen to, say, Sonic Youth's "Goo" at 80 dB. But ziplining sounds more fun.

Koma Me reminds of a scene in Kursosawa's Dersu Uzala, where Dersu and the Russian Army come upon a lonely man deep in the forest, sitting on the porch of a hut. He has been sitting there for decades because his wife left him and he could not find a way to reckon with it.