There is a tree across the street that looks exactly like the trees in the backyard of my childhood home, and I catch myself staring at it often, drifting back through time and space to my Narnia, my Shire, my Glenmerle.
Outside our bedroom window, there is a tree so close that its branches are pinned up against the window panes so tightly they look like the arms of smashed spider. This means we have frequent Peeping Tom squirrels, and have been awakened on many a windy night by knocks and taps and bristles. As fearful as we may be of a violent storm sending an oak branch into bed with us, it is also comforting knowing that one of nature's giants is shielding us from the surrounding cold concrete city.
If you look out any window in our apartment, the scene is outlined in tree branches. It feels very much as if we live in a giant tree house, high above the dangers on the ground, safely hidden in the arms of the leafed gods. It is our secret clubhouse, and we are in charge of who and what is allowed passage inside, we are the King and Queen and Baby Man of the castle.
It is our haven, our bungalow, our corner of the world, our cleft in the rock.
It is our haven, our bungalow, our corner of the world, our cleft in the rock.
2 comments:
What a wonderful place to live.
(We call the boys' bedroom the treehouse cuz it's up high & the walls are slanted & there's brown carpet. It sorta feels like a treehouse!)
Love you
very poetic today... who is your muse? I needed to tap into that when I was stuck earlier.
This is where we are to be for now...focused on the present with our little guy...but I certainly can't help thinking of what will hopefully be our own place, in the woods, without the city noises and lights.
I love your imagination
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