A Morning Trip to the Tree House


MINOLTA DIGITAL CAMERA                                 A view from the tree house

I steadily climbed upward to the quaint tree plat-form perched in the thick friendly Beech tree. The icy fingers of a raw breeze touched my skin and blew my hair gently. Pulling myself up I looked down below to see the trunk of the Beech tree wearily making its way to the ground.

To the north Pine trees stood dignified amidst deciduous trees. A Nuthatch also chirped behind me.

From the south and east, Hawks flew threw the air harshly scolding each other. “Me-ahhh, me-ahhh, me-ahhh,” Peacocks chorused off in the distance. The sun had risen and now around the seventh hour of the day it sparkled brilliantly across the land warming me. Up the hill just a few yards away stood our house, stately watching over the property.

All around me a few early March birds whistled a tune every now and then. A small flock of birds flew overhead. The cold brisk air of the morning threatened to paralyze me with numbness.

From the west I heard a Woodpecker hammer on a tree far out. The fresh morning air gently touched me on the nose. I climbed down the tree as slowly as a snail and trudged back to the house, leaving the beautiful morning land behind.


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