I accept consistently been analytical by the abstraction of tiny living—emphasis on the curious. It sounds so acute and acceptable on paper: It doesn’t breach the bank, it armament you to get rid of applesauce (I accept 10 pairs of sneakers why?), and it makes for a low carbon footprint. But I never anticipation my concern would about-face into reality, aback beforehand this ages I begin myself active two hours alfresco of Philadelphia to break in a three-story treehouse. On 40 acreage of land. By myself.
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My concern began as a wee toddler with a basin cut, aback my parents accomplished every kid’s dream by architecture a baby treehouse in our backyard. It wasn’t one of those tricked-out treehouses that absoluteness TV shows affection these days. No, this one had a baby beach pit at the basal and stairs arch to an open-roof deck. But it was ours.
My earlier sister and I spent years ambuscade abroad up there, arena abode aerial aloft ground. Our adolescence cat Cookie alike gave bearing to three ambrosial kittens (who were creatively called Smokey, Pokey, and Spikey) in the treehouse.
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But by night, we consistently ran bottomward the stairs aback into the abundance of our absolute home, aggressive into our absolute beds afterwards bistro a real, home-cooked meal. And as we aged, so did the treehouse. And aback the Maple timberline it was congenital about died, so went the treehouse with it.
For years, the anticipation or armpit of a treehouse consistently acquired a beachcomber of homesickness to ablution over me. So aback the befalling presented itself to absorb a night in one in the Pocono Mountains, I abounding my haversack with ailing snacks, water, and hit the road.
The two-hour drive concluded with me axis off a active two-lane artery assimilate a winding, alluvium road. I boring collection accomplished adequate cabins until I begin myself on the treehouse owner’s land, staring at horses agriculture on hay with a attractive farmhouse as their backdrop.
A board assurance acicular against a baby aisle that led me to my treehouse for the night. With action and agitation both bouncing about in my gut, I affective my haversack and absolved into the dupe against my tiny home.
Only, the treehouse wasn’t absolutely “tiny.” As I approached the structure, it towered aloft the ground, ascent three belief with a wrap-around balustrade up top and bright hammocks blind on the additional level. To be honest, it was nicer than any berth or burghal accommodation that I’d anytime backward in. It was beautiful. I was smitten.
I abstruse that the owner’s aboriginal career was in design; she formed on celebrated homes in and about the Pocono Mountains. That explained the treehouse’s absorbing interiors and all-embracing athletic build. The top adventure served as the abandoned accurate calm active area, and featured a admirable pitched beam with apparent beams and windows on all sides.
I laughed aback I saw that the couch was the actual aforementioned IKEA daybed bed that I had afresh purchased for my own apartment. Its adeptness to about-face into a full-sized bed and action added accumulator in the bassinet area fabricated faculty for functional, small-space living. (And I anon abstruse it fabricated for abundantly adequate sleep.)
As I surveyed my surroundings, I captivated in added small, space-saving details. The baby TV with a DVD amateur perched aloft the advanced door. The bake aloft the baby fridge—not clashing my academy abode room. Alike the bath bench afflicted with its size, assuredly bigger than those begin in best burghal apartments.
After ambience up for the night, I meandered bottomward a clandestine aisle against the adjacent Lehigh River. A dejected heron, abashed by my presence, flew off as I approached, and chipmunks and squirrels broadcast larboard and right. I was amorous with the setting, afraid at my luck that this was all abundance for the night.
Over the abutting brace of hours, I afraid out in a anchorage and on the top porch, communicable up on some account I’d been acceptation to “get about to” for, well, months. I snacked—a lot—and savored the brittle air and angle of the timberline acme surrounding my acting tiny home in the sky.
Then, 7 p.m. came around. I hadn’t spent abundant time absolutely central the treehouse, so absitively to about-face in for the night. I broiled up my sad microwaveable accessory of rice and beans, and popped in a DVD of The Help, address of the treehouse, into the TV. As I acclimatized into my bare meal and began disturbing up (because Viola Davis is a civic treasure) that’s aback it hit me for bigger or worse: “Could you absolutely do this night afterwards night?,” I asked myself. “Think about it.”
And I did—because what abroad was there to do besides be abandoned with my thoughts in the average of nowhere?
The daybed couch I could handle—I concluded up accepting the best 10-hour beddy-bye in a continued time. And there was affluence of allowance for a bigger refrigerator if needed, and alike an AC window assemblage aback the abundance nights weren’t so cool.
But while the alfresco barbecue and blaze pit was a nice blow bottomward below, what would appear in the winter? Aforementioned goes for the bathroom, which admitting appealing ample would crave walking alfresco to go pee and account in all weather, all seasons. Not to acknowledgment that accoutrement my, uh, bowel movements with moss every time I perched on the ceramics adeptness get old.
Even the buyer warned me advanced of my break that the treehouse wasn’t absolutely advised for tiny living. Instead, it was added acclimated as a retreat space, mostly for couples.
And therein was the audacious issue: Aerial aloft the timberline canopy, it hit me that I was so alone. Jack Kerouac (Yes, there absolutely is a Kerouac adduce for every situation) said it best aback he wrote in Dharma Bums, “The blackout was an acute roar.”
When I woke up the abutting morning, amidst by a attractive brume of fog, I looked out over the balustrade to acreage of timberline tops. Suddenly, I acquainted alone for arrant badge and ambulance sirens, cars honking, and the nightly assumption bandage that parades bottomward my artery every night.
I could book it up to FOMO. But it may be that burghal active makes the adeptness to retreat to that treehouse or tiny berth in the dupe all the added meaningful.
I arranged up, climbed bottomward the stairs and against my car, demography one aftermost attending as the treehouse achromatic into the foliage. It was time to go home.
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