August 2016: Tree Houses
On my oft traveled, back-road route to the Pensacola airport, there's a house with a wide-spreading tree on the front lawn. Birdhouses of all sizes and colors hang from every branch. I am carried each time I pass this way to other places, other times . . .
Monumental, wild Panhandle magnolias sheltered our neighborhood gang of Army Air Corps brats on Garnier Bayou in Shalimar. Another magnolia towering in my grandmother's backyard harbored small cousins high above the levee and the Big River. At the old Magoon house in Vidalia, it was a pecan tree that was fort and playground to a small contingent of soldiers and Tarzans and tree dwellers.
As a child in the thick, green seclusions of houses in the trees, I was airborne and free.