Tree Story House

We complained about losing thousands of trees when hurricane-force winds hit Pasadena November 30th, but we didn't lose every tree in town. In fact, most of them are still here. It's not that we exaggerated the loss. It's just that Pasadena had so many trees to begin with that although losing so many was painful, we still live in a blessed urban forest.

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.