Thursday, March 28, 2013
Remember making forts when you were young?
On rainy days, every pillow and blanket that could be found in the house was utilized... especially the giant couch pillows. They made great walls. And even more fun than building them, was trying to climb inside them without creating an implosion. The most extreme care was taken not to disturb those fragile pillow walls, but, like a sandcastle destined for high tide, usually disaster struck at some point. All the more reason to build another, more solidly constructed one.
These driftwood forts seem to pop up overnight on my favourite beaches. I hardly ever see the same one twice, and when I find a new one, I can't help but want to climb inside, or at the very least, peek inside the windows. I think these are big-kid-constructed forts. Adults build them to try and reclaim their inner Tom Sawyer. Some of them are so incredibly elaborate. So creative. So deliciously playful. They make great shelters on windy days. They make great secret hideaways for romantics.
But as fast as they go up, they mysteriously disappear. Do some people find the same joy in destroying them as others do when they build them? Is it like squashing the sandcastle before the ocean claims it? And why do I never see a fort in the making (or destroying) in progress? Maybe the crows are building them in the middle of the night?