Tree House II

Mountains are made out of rock and we live on the side of a mountain. This will be become an important piece of information shortly...(This is foreshadowing)

“Do you girls want to help build the tree house?” I heard my wife say this to my daughter and her friend. It may be surprising that I could hear her say this, but since I could only see spots, my hearing was compensating... (This is also foreshadowing)

People who write how-to books are sadistic. (This is a basic truth.)

Because the tree house was for the kids and their friends, I decided to abandon my usual approach to building and had done some research and even had plans. The first book I read was very clear, you cannot anchor the tree house to the tree. There was something about how this would cause the tree house to fall apart as the tree grew. Instead, you take two strong boards and bolt them into either side of the tree and then rest the tree house on this. As the tree grows or gently sways in the wind (since we live on the side of a mountain, I was picturing a more “gently” snapping in gale force winds.) the tree house moves with it. So, with the two support beams anchored into the tree trunk, I was ready to start the platform.

“Daddy, are the boards supposed to be that crooked?” My daughter kept asking after I gently rested each of the support boards on the the boards bolted into the tree.

Anyone who has done any kind of construction, knows that you always plan a slight slope so that water will drain off. My muttered answer (since I was out of quarters, my daughter did not hear my real answer. (My wife had recently instituted a policy where certain words meant a quarter was added to a jar. This was a good idea after my daughter tried out “damn it”... I think her exact phrase was “Damn it, daddy, you have to play Barbies with me, now.”

I told her that was not a word “we” use.

“But mommy says it all the time.”

I explained that it was not a word she should use.

“But I like it, damn it!” That was the start of the money jar.)) was always “Yes.”

Until I stepped back to look at my progress.

“Mom! Daddy said your favorite word! Again...”

The plans called for 2X6 boards bolted into the tree and 8 inch lag bolts. I'd used 2X8s and 12 inch lag bolts figuring to be extra safe. The pictures in the books all looked amazing and words like straight and level sprung to mind. As I looked over my progress I realized I was going to have to go the bank and get a roll of quarters... I also realized that the people that wrote the how to for tree houses are (insert at least three quarters here) sadists.

So, my daughter, son and I sat on the hill and looked at the beginning of the tree house platform. “Is that what you planned, daddy?”

“No.”

“Will we ever have a tree house?”

“Yes.”

“Can you fix it?”

“Yes.”

“I know you can do it, daddy.” My daughter patted my should in a kinda doubtful way.

“Can we go up and play in it?” My son is the optimist.

“It needs some more bracing,” I decided. A couple of 4X4s would definitely remove the grotesque tilt. Fortunately, none of the plans I'd looked at had called for that. This meant I was back in my comfort zone.... winging it.

There was just one problems with my new non-plan. The posts needed to be cemented into the ground. That meant digging through several feet of rock. I was halfway through digging the post holes (and most of the way through a coronary.). This was when I heard my wife say, “Do you girls want to help build the tree house?”

My daughter had a friend over and they were both anxious to play in the new tree house. “Yes, let's go help my daddy!” I'm positive I heard my wife smirk.

“Daddy, we'll help you dig.” I saw two blond-headed blurs coming down the hill. They were blurry because of the heat stroke, minor aneurysm and heart attack I was currently having.

I managed to bite back, “Go away and annoy your mother,”

“This is heavy,” My daughter grunted as she picked up the post-hole digger. “Is your foot ok?” she asked after she dropped the pointy end on my foot. Luckily I was wearing work boots and I'd lost most of the feeling in my lower body from the aneurysm.

“I know, we can pick the rocks out the of the hole! Daddy, you dig and we'll do that.” Both girls squatted next to the very shallow beginning of a hole and were ready to snatch any rocks that would show up. The only problem was I had to break through the impenetrable layer of rock first. And I didn't want my daughter's friend to take any new words home with her...

I also wanted my daughter's friend to go home with both her hands. I knew as soon as I started to use the post-hole digger, one of them would reach in for a rock, no matter how far I told them to stand back.

When I write my how to book on tree houses, I'm going to include the little things like digging through rocks, avoiding cutting off little hands (no matter how tempting) and how to ignore all plans. Oh wait, I've already done that.

Tree House

“Let me show you what tree,” my daughter said as she surveyed our yard.

This was one of those times I was hoping the parental bond I've read about was strong. Because if we weren't in synch she was going to be disappointed. I'd already picked out the tree for the tree house...

She walked up to each tree and gave it considerable thought. I knew I was being set up from the way my wife was giggling.

“Not that tree!”

This only made my daughter consider the tree with more consideration. After a moment she shook her head and moved over to the next tree.

Fifteen trees later, she slowly approached the tree. “Daddy, this is the tree.” (We'd been talking about this tree for the past two years. We'd drawn up detailed plans. My daughter would spend hours dreaming about tree house and this was The Perfect Tree...)

“Are you sure?”

“I'm positive.”

“Ok,” I added a mellow-dramatic sigh so she wouldn't think all her hard work had gone to waste. “Is this going to be too high?” I pointed to the perfect fork to anchor the base. It was a good ten feet up. I made sure to raise my voice and look at my wife while posing this question. My daughter was of the opinion that it was too low. My wife and I made eye contact and there was no more than her usual concern for my lack of planning. Still maintaining the eye contact, “Are you sure this is NOT TOO high?” My wife smiled and that was all the answer I needed. (After years of marriage, we've developed a highly complex method on non-verbal communication.)

“Can we start building right now?” My daughter was already planning how to decorate her tree house.

“I have to get the lumber first.”

“Will the tree support it?” My wife has a knack for asking irresponsible questions.

“And directions.” I added with only a slight mutter.

“Today?” I knew she was excited because she was bouncing on my foot.

“I'm going to Lowes now.”

“Yeah! We're going to have a tree house tonight!” She ran off to tell her brother.

By the time I'd made my way to house, a pile of toys were piled up in front of the door. “What are these for?” I asked a little blur running past.

“For the tree house!” my son didn't miss a beat as he dropped his current load and went back for another.

“You do know it's not going to be ready today?” I asked a random blur.

“We have faith in you, daddy.”

It's unfounded faith like that that makes fatherhood all worthwhile

After a trip to Lowes, I had the directions, a load of lumber and optimism. The sticking point was how I was going to anchor the two 12 foot long 2X10s (If you've never tried to work with a twelve foot long 2X10, they are really long and probably weigh several hundred pounds) so they were both level. There was also the added difficulty that the tree was on a hill and my stepladder was definitely not hill friendly. I figured I could use two shorter boards, get those level and anchored to the tree and then use them to support the main joists. After a few hours, I had the two braces bolted into the tree and one of the 2X10s also level and anchored.

“It is done yet?” My daughter asked from the foot of the tree. The blood pounding in my ears had drowned out her normally un-quiet approach.

“Do you see a tree house?”

She actually paused and looked around me. “No?”

“Then it's not done yet.”

“Can I come up?”

Right now, there were two 2X6 boards about three feet long, one on each side of the tree. There was one twelve foot long 2X10 resting across these. The other 2X10 was wedged next to me. I was balanced on a branch holding a level and a chain saw (It seemed like a good idea at the time.). The step ladder had fallen over a few minutes ago and I was not sure how I was going to get get back to the ground (aside from the obvious method.)

“It's going to be that high?” My wife asked from up the hill.

I knew from her tone of voice that there was something wrong. “Yes.”

“Isn't that too high?” This was my wife's way of saying it was too high.

“Is it too high?” I asked my daughter. She was closer to my wife and I was pretty sure after all those hours of labor, my daughter was much safe than me.”

"No. It needs to be higher.”

“Are you sure it's not too high?”

“Mommy said you have to put a quarter in the jar when you use that word.”

My daughter, apparently has excellent hearing.

“Mommy, what's eight times a quarter?”

At least I'd perfected the art of balancing on a rickety step ladder while using a chain saw. Doing it all over again wouldn't be that hard... My wife definitely has to work on her silent communication skills because I'm out of quarters.