Reality

And it wasn't the usual sort of sprucing, either.

Almost four years ago Jenny and I built a tree fort high in a white maple tree that leans out over the small millpond behind our house. Plan A was to cobble parts from the old wooden jungle gym the kids had outgrown -- but the jungle gym was so well-built that the demolition project had to be abandoned in favor of new lumber. And as a result years had gone by with the various disassembled parts of the old jungle gym awaiting a final fate.

The gym has a central core of climbing bars, and it also once had uneven parallel bars to one side, swings to the other, and a small slide protruding from the middle. These were the parts I had removed easily, but the core section itself would have required a serious hacking job from my Sawsall -- and I just couldn't bring myself to cut the thing to pieces. When you have kids, things like this can achieve a level of sentiment that says, "if it is still safe to leave standing, then leave it standing." And that is what I had done.

Today then, with our visitors already on their way, I decided that the practical fate of the mess was to merely reattach the loose pieces. But I soon discovered how I needed more hardware, and by the time I'd made this discovery, the local hardware store was closed. So I did what I could, then I took a broom to the observation deck above the core section, and once done with the old gym, I climbed a tall ladder into the tree fort high up the white maple to do the same thing.

I've since learned a little bit about the right way to build an observation deck from watching how the old fort had aged. Jenny and I built the tree fort with a simple deck-like railing here and there to let the dead leaves blow out, rather than allowing them to collect into an elevated mulch pile. Because of this open design the broom was hardly worth the trouble, but I swept the tree fort deck today anyway as though it really did matter -- because Jenny isn't here anymore to do this herself.

There used to be a plastic chair in one corner of the tree fort, but it was taken down the last time wood-preservative was applied -- two years ago according to Jenny's friend, Kevin, who had done the work. And that sounds about right. It's probably been about two years since I've been up there, too -- before today. And once in the tree, I wasn't in any hurry to head down -- except for having no place to sit -- so I sat on the floor and let my feet dangle over the edge through the side overlooking the pond -- with the sun streaming into my face between gently blowing bright green leaves.

Soon I noticed dragonflies patrolling the waters surface far below, snatching smaller bugs as they drifted across the smooth and somewhat muddied water. Out of nowhere a catbird landed on a nearby branch, snatched one of the dragonflies, and then it flew off -- all in a matter of seconds. Easy routine pickings, I guess -- perhaps an afternoon snack for its growing brood. In the reflecting water I could also see a sundog among the sky clouds -- a segment of rainbow you can sometimes see on clear days under the proper conditions. Through the leaves and towards the sun itself, I couldn't see this at all, but in the water it was plainly obvious -- all the colors of the rainbow from red to violet.

Fish also snatched at bugs, yet one seemed to linger until I realized that it wasn't a fish at all -- but a turtle, perhaps eight inches long and from what I know about turtles, this one may have lived in the immediate area longer than I have (21 years). The turtle meandered with no particular hurry, stopping briefly to nibble on things lurking under the water among the weeds -- yet I don't know enough about turtles to guess at what its dinner might have been.