When you think of an office, what do you imagine? Is it a neat line of cubicles? A study lined with books, a few file cabinets or a little attic alcove lit by candle? All of these come to my mind but they pale in comparison to my dream office.
Picture a graceful oak tree that dances in the wind. No, not the kind of wind which whips the tree around. The tree is old and ancient. Its trunk curves as it goes up like a dancer swirling her skirts. This tree is older than your great-great-great grandfather. It’s a survivor so, it dances as it grows.
Build a platform around the middle of the tree. String some rope and wood bridges to the house or another tree. The platform becomes an octagonal building built out from the trunk. There are posts set in concrete, sixteen at the least to support the tree house. The windows are of clear plexiglass and they open! It must have lots of windows!
To access the tree house, you can use the bridge or a rope ladder. If you use the rope ladder, strap your dogs into the basket elevator before ascending. Now haul them up. If you chose the bridge come across and right in the front door. Near a window to the left after entering is a gleaming, antique, pigeon-hole writing desk. The desk is crowned with wicker magazine holders filled with manuscripts instead of their namesakes. A five drawer filing cabinet is near. It holds every vague thought I’ve had on a thousand (or less) stories and a few hundred poems.
On the table is a tea set. It is a fancy ceramic embossed with roses. On a shelf sits a Japanese tea set. So many choices, but today we use the English version. A solar powered electric kettle sits in the window and it’s about to boil. Tea time will be soon! Do we choose Chai, Earl Grey, black tea? Well, tea is a must. It has a pleasant aroma that makes me want to write!
There is no dust in this tree house. There is only peace. It is the perfect place for weaving stories into a novel. It’s not a spot for writing: it is strictly for creating. A puzzle sits on a desk under a window. It waits until I need to work through vague story details that have stumped me. By another window is an easel next to an end table. It holds an unfinished painting and waits for my attention. This might be a scene from a book I’m currently in the middle of writing. All the paint, palettes, brushes, and spare canvas are stored on or under the end table. Along the walls are a few bookcases with books for research.
This tree house office isn’t very big but it’s cozy without clutter to distract me. It may seem strange to have a puzzle, tea sets, and paint in an office, but hey, I’m ADD. Sometimes, I cannot focus on one thing all day long. I do my best thinking when I’m occupied with another task, like a puzzle. I don’t need my entire mind to see similarities and patterns. I have enough left over to focus on the problem at hand.
So now, you’ve been inside this castle in the air. It may never come to pass, but I cannot help but dream it. I can write and my dogs can be with me. My papers will be dry. I won’t have to worry about the rain. I really like this castle in the air.