My dad went on a tree house building stint when I was young. That, and he just loved his daughters. I have a wonderful father. I had three tree houses.
One was built upon the swing set frame, I guess for lack of suitable
trees. It makes me think about the qualities a tree must embody to be a good
tree house tree. I remember one of the trees was a Dogwood tree. We always
kind of minded the Dogwood tree as the special tree in our yard. I don't
recall any of the other trees being called by it's proper name. Except for the
pear tree. Perhaps because it was the only tree that flowered, or the only tree
that was small and limb-y enough to climb. The tree house had two split levels, and a bridge that led off to the side that didn't really lead anywhere, but it was fun to walk on, to sit on, looking downwards and marvelling at how high of the ground we were, just the same.

Tree Houses

Then my dad installed a rope swing. He had
an old bow and arrow in the shed. He tied a rope to the end of the arrow and
shot the arrow over a tree limb to get the rope over it. It must have been 80
feet in the air, where the rope hung over the tree. I remember showing off in
front of the family friends, how I could take off on the rope swing hanging
from just one hand and swing the full circle over our extensive, rambling ivy
patch, and land back on the take-off platform, which my father also built for
us, lovingly. The tree house is gone, both levels, as is the bridge that lead
to nowhere. But the rope swing and the take-off platform still remain,
untouched, these past years. I think I'm going to go swing on it, just to
honor my memories, the next time I am at my parents' house.

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