Sunday, January 15, 2012
Tree Story House
Boz and I passed this giant on our dog walk yesterday evening. The tree dwarfs its yard partner, making it look like a tiny tree house.
Sometimes when I'm walking--okay, always when I'm walking--I glance through gates into back yards and, if the curtains are open, I peer into windows. It's part nosiness, absolutely. But mostly it's like looking at the pictures while reading a fanciful storybook. I peek at a world I don't know. I imagine what it's like to live inside that story.
Boz doesn't fantasize. He's strictly a non-fiction dog. But I'm sure I'm not the only one who does this.
I couldn't see into this house. Like a treehouse, it's raised over the sidewalk on a yard of ferns, heightened above the everyday like fiction itself. But the golden light from the windows was enough.