· A beautiful balcony is a must in my dream house. It must have a garden in which one can play or plant trees and enjoy it. There should be a sense of comfort in my dream house. All rooms should be spacious and airy. My pets should have their corner. A cozy study room is a necessity in my dream house. Even if the house is not large, it should give out positive energies. The interiors should be well planned. There must be a lot of plants in my dream house. FAQ’s on My Dream House Essay Essay On Tree House. I sat sticking to the scorching black linoleum covering the oak stairs to my great-aunt's back porch. The sweat poured down me like a thin steam following my spine to the small of my back. Despite the sweltering heat, and air so thick you could cut through it with a knife, my dad and uncle labored 2 pages 17 Dec/ · It’s focus is environmental education. I could not imagine a better location in the county for my dream treehouse. For-Mar is sacred ground. For-Mar will always be sacred ground for me. A few miles upstream from the For-Mar treehouse is where I did most of my boyhood camping and hunting. My father built a house on a hill bordered by Kearsley Creek
Free Essay: The Tree house.
B ack in the mids, when my wife, Viki, and I had been living in downtown Orange for 10 years, I decided to build a treehouse out of redwood fence lumber in a Fuerte avocado tree that sat in the corner of our backyard. I was well past 30 at the time, and the tree was probably twice my age and 40 feet high. We had two young sons, John and Danny, and so it might seem that I wanted to build the treehouse for them—and I did—but I also wanted to build it for me. Anything worth doing has a number of solidly good reasons for getting done.
And in any event, a treehouse is its own excuse. One thing I discovered is that the tree and the treehouse are in some sense the same thing. Like essays, my tree house essay two treehouses are alike. And the Fuerte avocado is simply the best-tasting avocado grown in Southern California. You can get at most of the fruit with a picker.
A Fuerte is a my tree house essay tree, my tree house essay, growing toward the sun for reasons of its own rather than the practical purpose of pickability. We had a foot fiberglass picker with a canvas bag on the end and an my tree house essay fruit-picking ladder that was 12 feet high.
Sooner or later they would come down of their own accord, and I can tell you my tree house essay experience that a one-pound avocado falling from 30 or 40 feet onto the top of your head can be a shocking thing, my tree house essay.
I like to build things out of redwood —that was part of why I wanted to build the treehouse: I envisioned a sort of Craftsman bungalow in the branches, my tree house essay.
The structure would be two stories: the bottom story a garden shed, the treehouse above it accessible by a three-tiered staircase leading to a veranda. I built the bottom story first and topped it with plywood to make a floor for the house that would sit my tree house essay top. Then I climbed onto the plywood to figure out what the house itself might look like. From that vantage point I discovered there was a heavy, U-shaped limb growing out horizontally some six feet above the level of the floor, call it 14 or 15 feet off the ground.
That limb, I could see now, would restrict both the height and the width of the house. It came to me that the limb might weave in and out of the house through holes in the walls. After muddling around with it for a while, I settled on a split-level my tree house essay feet of its width built lower down so that a section of the limb loomed a few inches above it.
The rest of the roof was high enough to accommodate grown humans if they were inclined to stand up inside if grown humans my tree house essay allowed into the treehouse at all.
The artfully hooked limb would seem to embrace the top of the house, passing above the top of the door like a floating lintel, my tree house essay. A couple of other heavy limbs angled away from what would be the veranda—ascending avenues for anyone who wanted to venture into the upper realms. Over the following weeks and months, my tree house essay, I built and installed windows that opened inward, and I set a trap door low in the back wall with toeholds and handles outside that would allow someone to creep up and down unseen like Dracula on the wall of his castle.
The whole structure was clad with vertical fence boards with wood lath for battens. I put on a shingle roof and hung a swag lamp in a corner and another lamp over the stairs outside to accommodate the possums and raccoons that would make use of the place at night. And so it was finished. The christening of the tree house nearly coincided with the death of one of our neighbors, Bill Mitchell. Back when we first moved into the house inthe Mitchell family two doors down had already lived there for years.
Their backyard was an immense garden where Bill, who was well past 80, grew lettuce, my tree house essay, onions, and rows and rows of black-eyed peas. He was my tree house essay of those peas. When they stopped appearing, we knew that black-eyed pea season was over, taking summer with it. There came a time when Bill was too old to tend to his garden, and they stopped appearing altogether.
One year we had a bumper crop of avocados. We went off down the sidewalk, filling bags with avocados and leaving them on front porches. It occurred to Viki and me recently that the Mitchells had been the reigning old-timers when we moved into the neighborhood, the two of us being in our mids.
Funny how that happens. We grew up in Anaheim, where many of the houses in the neighborhoods came with mature avocado trees. My family had two of them.
The avocados were slimy things to my mind, and it was a sort of horror to watch my parents eating them with salt and pepper or smashing them onto toast. I tried to pick around them in salads, but it was nearly impossible because they share their wealth with every shred of lettuce.
I got a D- on the paper, which I no doubt deserved. The treehouse is still standingunlike the tree itself. It has been around for odd years now and has led to considerations about the life of a tree and about life in general, my tree house essay.
In the years after the treehouse was open for business, my tree house essay, that U-shaped limb got heavier and heavier, the healthy tree growing in bulk and weight.
In time, the limb settled onto the corner of the roof, and in heavy Santa Ana winds it shifted ominously, the treehouse along with it. Viki and I managed to raise the limb a couple of inches, and I braced it with a vertical 4-by-4 post fixed to the floor of the veranda so that the limb sat happily and solidly on a scooped-out perch padded with leather. Ten years went by, and one day the post under that limb started to tilt, as if it were no longer bearing any weight.
The limb was getting lighter, we discovered, slowly levitating. I removed the no-longer-useful post and hoped for the best, although there was my tree house essay best outcome to account for the phenomenon. The tree was drying out, which is to say dying. The avocados on the tree began to shrink in size as the tree declined, and the top of the fruit was deformed. The once glossy surfaces of the leaves dimmed, my tree house essay, the edges turning brown.
The tree stopped bearing fruit of any sort. Its problem was that it was old and simply passing away. The unhappy day finally came when we had no choice but to have the tree cut down, one limb at a time, the stump ground out, and the remnants hauled to the dump. The treehouse, bereft of its tree, stood there exposed to the elements, looking old my tree house essay worn out. The glory years of the treehouse had passed away, of course, even while the tree was still alive and thriving.
Our sons and their friends simply found less and less time to spend in trees. In that era, a swarm of bees got into the treehouse and set up housekeeping in the corner, my tree house essay, creating honey-filled combs between the wall studs and coming and going past termite-eaten battens. After the bees finally vacated the premises, the inside of the treehouse smelled like honey, and still does in its ghostly way.
Thirty years of wind and rain and insects took a grim toll. The stairs are nearly hollowed out by termites, and climbing them is a real thrill. Roof shingles blew off in a recent Santa Ana wind.
A few years before the avocado tree declinedwe had put a half-dead ficus tree in a wooden keg out back. A little bit of watering perked it up, and over time its roots grew through the bottom of the keg. Once the avocado was gone and the ficus got some sunlight, it began to grow as if it had been waiting for its chance. The other day, Viki and I were out back looking at the garden shed and thinking about all this. The shed still stands solidly on its concrete piers and has a few good years left in it, more than a few if we were to yank out termite-eaten boards and replace them.
What if, we thought, my tree house essay, we pruned the ficus tree in order to make it fit a new treehouse, a treehouse that was bigger and better than ever?
We could easily picture it—a few extra square feet for elbow room, a couple of easy chairs and a table, reading lamps, a carpet on the floor, a shelf of books, wood-paneled walls, windows on two sides, a wider veranda. We would enlist our sons and make it a family affair—all in all an optimistic adventure and a temporary victory over time and the weather.
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Hack My Tree House Presentation
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· It’s focus is environmental education. I could not imagine a better location in the county for my dream treehouse. For-Mar is sacred ground. For-Mar will always be sacred ground for me. A few miles upstream from the For-Mar treehouse is where I did most of my boyhood camping and hunting. My father built a house on a hill bordered by Kearsley Creek · A beautiful balcony is a must in my dream house. It must have a garden in which one can play or plant trees and enjoy it. There should be a sense of comfort in my dream house. All rooms should be spacious and airy. My pets should have their corner. A cozy study room is a necessity in my dream house. Even if the house is not large, it should give out positive energies. The interiors should be well planned. There must be a lot of plants in my dream house. FAQ’s on My Dream House Essay · My tree house, my sanctuary, my refuge, was the only place that I ever felt invincible. It was built about four feet from the dark moist earth below, wrapped tightly around an incredibly large willow tree laden with heavily falling branches that incased my most precious spot
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