Iconic treehouse is but a memory
Today I took down the tree house in our back yard. For one thing, it was unsafe. For another, I think my neighbor will like it better. Months ago when I went up the ladder to make some repairs I looked over the fence into her back yard where she was sitting in a hot tub. “Hi neighbor,” she said.
I didn’t look. Well, okay, of course I looked. She was wearing a bathing suit. “Hi,” I replied. An awkward moment. She and I never did talk much, and we haven’t talked at all in the years since.
Anyhow, nearly all of our grandkids and grand nephews and nieces have outgrown the tree house. We used to sweat when the kids, almost two short to climb the rungs, risked their lives going up there. By the time it was safe for them they were in school. They had no interest.
The tree it was fastened to had outgrown the tree house also. Maybe 10-15 years ago we copied one that used to be just east of Pioneer Park. P. and I walked over there and I took a picture. Then we built. Complete with a roof for shade. In the last couple of years the tree’s girth had increased so that some of the floor boards no longer rested on the joists, a hazard, so I removed the ladders to discourage the neighbor kids. It had two because one of our grandkids said the tree house needed a fire escape. The roof blew off last year in a storm. Today I attacked with screwdriver and saw and hammer. I was gratified at the difficulty. I picked up the pieces, saying in my mind, seven, eight, lay them straight.
insearchofbud 
It’s a story, and a good one. It’s a true story.