For the first few years here in Australia, the bees next door held us hostage. While I would love to pretend that it was like living in Kinfolk magazine with a quaint hipster urban farm vibe just over the fence, it was decidedly not. There were feral swarms who often found their way into our little private space to ruin just about any sort of outdoor fun we were having. You know, by landing on us…with their stingers.
The apiarists* moved and for the first summer completely bee free, the fear lingered like the memory of their tempestuous clouds and the back garden was tainted. Things have changed and time has reset the reflex to hide inside. This past weekend, Gemma set out to reclaim the playhouse. The first step in her master plan is to transform the exterior into something less gloomy. We happened to have just enough green paint in the garage for her to do a coat of stripes. She worked so hard the entire day with tiny brushes and big determination completing stage one just in time for dinner. This weekend we will buy a giant can of white paint and let her back at it.
I love that the kids have their own space that is truly their own. I feel like treehouses and secret forts are the provenance of much greatness in childhood. We have a list of things that we want to do like making curtains, buy an op-shop rug, rig a light for inside, construct a scarecrow for the roof and build a small raised garden bed on the side. She and I are going to brainstorm via Pinterest. Let us know if you have found some awesome ideas! Please feel free to pop your thoughts and links in the comment section here!
I will keep you updated on the progress!
*Just to be clear, we loved the beekeeper family. They were wonderful neighbors and would come and get their wayward charges anytime we called. We also learned a lot from them and had the unforgetable experience of eating honeycomb fresh from the hive. Unfortunately, one small girl, ironically named Clover, is as it turns out, quite allergic to honey.