Not every tree, even in dense forest like this, was right for it. He needed a tree that was not only tall, with relatively few low limbs, but healthy enough to bear extra weight—and to outlive the humans who were about to become its new inhabitants. He was almost out of sight of the girls’ tree house, entirely out of sight of the main house, when he found the tree he’d been looking for. A thick-trunked fir, reaching far up into the canopy, free of disease, with only a few low branches—sturdy, well separated from each other, and nearly perpendicular to the ground. As if it had been made to cradle a hideout. He had a vision for what he wanted, but he didn’t know yet what it was. It would be round and cozy—a Hobbit hole up a tree—with a spiral stairway ascending. It would blend well with its surroundings and be rough-hewn, making use of raw logs or limbs with bark still intact in places, with a wraparound deck. There’d be a woodstove at the far corner of the deck, which he could use to heat water for an outdoor shower.
