She could play with her dolls in the tree house and serve them tea while her grandparents could climb up to the top, have a glass of wine, and see the sun set while listening to some songs by Prince.
What a lovely view from the top story. What a great place to sit and see the sun disappear in the west and leave a lovely yellow and pink hue.
Soon after our discovery, all work ceased on the tree house. What happened? Did the neighbors on this side complain? Did they not have a permit from the city? Did they leave the country?
Like a nosy neighbor, I kept my eyes on the tree house that is nestled among the tall pine trees.
"Between every two pines is a doorway to a new world."--John Muir
Last week I heard hammering from across the ditch eh, I mean the creek, and I saw workers bringing in cedar shingles and boards. The building of the tree house is going strong again.