The Heron's Nest

Editors' Choices

The Heron's Nest Award

Don't you love a haiku that transports you back in time? This haiku takes us to an era when many of us, in our youth, lived more fully and freely outdoors. Remember finding and creating our own special outdoor spaces with friends and neighbors. I wonder how many of our readers adopted the spaces within and between vegetation as a bushhouse; constructed a fort or clubhouse out of found or scavenged materials; or elevated such construction into a tree as a treehouse.

"Treehouse" - The word causes a nostalgic pause in this reader. Not only did this take me back in time but it transported me to a very distinct season, summertime, when the living was easy. School's out and we all had the full breadth of time, each day, to make our own. Did you or someone you know have a treehouse? Who built it? What materials were used in its construction? How high up in the tree was it? What kind of tree?

Our treehouse was built in a public park adjacent to our emerging neighborhood. We pilfered lumber, some of it scrap, from nearby construction sites and dragged and carried it to the perfect tree - a large, leafy Norway maple. We climbed, sized it up, imagined, calculated and recalculated. We borrowed our parents' tools and got valuable advice from one of them, Mr. Meister. Despite this, we measured once and cut twice, having an endless source of building materials nearby. We misplaced tools, bent nails, and blackened thumbnails, as slowly, a treehouse of primitive form emerged. I can still smell the scent of raw lumber. What a joy!

A treehouse nestles us within the tree, above the ground, closer to the sky, into the realm of creatures of flight, the birds. Cicadas sang around us, not above us. Giant silk moths rested while we dropped parachute men, read comic books or ate sandwiches. One word - "treehouse" - stirred all this. So much more could be said. How about you? Are there memories stirring anew? How about our poet Sarah?

"The one password" - The Merriam Dictionary defines password as "something that enables one to pass or gain admission". The password allows entrance, into a very special place. The password creates a sense of belonging, of privilege. Wielding it can be part of the fun of admission. "What's the password?" On the other hand, the password can be an implement of exclusion. Perhaps some weren't given the password, or the password changed from time to time, without notification. In my case, with that treehouse in the maple, some of the older children "changed" the password. To my surprise, I was shut out and had to enter when they weren't there.

"I remember" - The Cambridge Academic Content Dictionary defines password as "a secret word or phrase that is used to obtain access to a place, information, or a computer system." I think regardless of age, we are all familiar with these "passwords". The average adult in America today uses 100 passwords! How can we possibly remember all of these? I have to use a password to access all my passwords!! A moment ago, I was up in a treehouse and now, I'm sitting at my computer trying to recall a password.

With six simple words, this haiku has taken us all on a journey. It is the slingshot nature of this journey, from past to present, that gives the haiku its impact and makes us smile. With one word, the reader is transported back into time, to childhood. And here we are, up in a tree, a special place, where admission is protected by a simple word or phrase. Remember it? It may have been the only password back then. I am not sure of the view or the sounds or scents, in this place but I know they are firmly in the poet's memory. Along with that one password

Jeff Hoagland
September 2024