Three Cheers for a Tree House
WE WERE RENOVATING, so I expected a mess when I arrived home Friday evening from a weeklong business trip in the spring of 2009. After a tour of the rubble, cold beer in hand, I spotted a pile of two-by-fours between a couple of trees in the backyard. “What’s that for?” I asked, pointing at the wood with my longneck. “It’s for the tree house,” my husband, Steve, said. “Figured we should get this done while the kitchen’s being gutted.” “What tree house?” I said, looking around at the vegetable garden, the bird feeders, the trampoline (enclosed), and the zip line descending across the yard. “The girls don’t need a tree house.” “Sure they do. A childhood’s not a childhood without a fort. I figured you’d be all about the safety, so I hired…
