Meanwhile, I Keep Dancing

I've always wanted a tree house. Somewhere up high, secret, preferably nested among leaves, is something that I know I will never grow out of. It feels so special to be up high. I'd even make do with an apartment, if it had an amazing view. I've had one tree house in my life. It was our old cherry tree at my old house, and my dad had taken rope and wound it around the thickest branches creating a platform, and then he took a sturdy squarish piece of wood and put it on top. And that was my treehouse. It wasn't up very high, nor was it very fancy, but sitting up there (especially in summer time, towels laid out, draping over the edge to create rooms below) it was my impenetrable fort. My secret lair. Then I got too big. Too heavy to sit on that little platform of rope and wood. And now I'm too old for it to be acceptable for me to play in trees (unless there is a child present). Maybe what I miss more is being that age that could sit in a simple tree house...

Another difficult one! It's actually the word "favorite" that is throwing me. You know how it goes, someone asks you what your favorite movie/book/song is and you go suddenly blank. I have several places that make me happy. But I'm most happy snuggled down in a good book. Can you guess which book I'm referencing in my picture? And perhaps I'm twisting the idea of the "drawing" challenge. :-) Art breaks rules. And it was really fun creating the hands to hold the book!