Ididn’t have a treehouse as a child. The birch and crabapple trees in our yard couldn’t support one. And because the weather in Denver isn’t exactly con
ducive to being outside all year, my parents didn’t want to commit to something that would be used only seasonally. So my sisters and I made do with a cardboard box, cut up and colored, that we deemed a fort. But I read about treehouses, and I imagined all the fun I’d have in one.
As an adult, I feel the same way about a home library or study. They evoke warm feelings about a quiet place to escape where I might read, think, or play cards. I covet the amazing libraries I’ve seen in neighbors’ houses. My uncle has always had great studies—in homes in Virginia, Philadelphia, and San Diego. A friend has a library in the tower on his property. These places speak to a person’s priorities: a dedicated spot to read, study, or sit, no matter how small the home is.
My kids have the same longing for secret spaces to call theirs: a room in our clock tower and a structure in the backyard. They even love sitting on our outdoor wall next to a tree. My daughter and I often argue about who “gets” the front porch.
I suspect we all long for a place to hide out. You might recognize this yearning as you read the essay by Jim Blaylock. His story is wonderful and uplifting, and also a bit sad as it relays the passage of time. When you read it, I hope you find the same peaceful sense that I did. And I hope it will make you delight in your next avocado.
—Alan Gibbons, Editor-in-Chief
My Favorite Things In This Issue
➜ A photo of the San Clemente Pier perfectly captures the delicious feeling of summer.
➜ The vine-covered entry for Studio McGee promises to lure intrigued customers.
➜ I will spend every weekend this summer visiting the spots in our Best Beaches feature.
➜ O.C. fans are eager to show their appreciation for Pixar, just as Pixar Pier opens at California Adventure.