Give me a Treehouse, or give me Death.

I want to live in a tree house. I once read a feature in a magazine that profiled several different real treehouse houses and rooms. That only fueled the 20-year old fire that grew out of the spark that was Swiss Family Robinson (and to add two more layers of destiny: my long-time crush Tommy Kirk and my ever-increasing desire to become a woodland creature or fairie, or both).






So for starters I want this book, The Treehouse Book, so I can learn how to build my own and live there. This book sounds good, too: New Treehouses of the World.

And I don't want some lame looking Hobby Lobby house on stilts. It has to be a new shape and creation all its own. It needs to either be elvish or be made entirely from salvaged materials, with circular doorways and lots of nooks and crannies for reading, storing, and looking out at the other trees and woodland creatures. Lots of details and opportunities for working by hand. But it can't be pretentious. It must be authentic, and it will be, if it's a true treehouse and not a faker low-level, crafty, perfectionist one.

Check out this lucky fella, the tree house guy.