Two years ago today, we cracked open a bottle of Life & Limb and celebrated the relocation of our off-centered hideaway.
At 44 feet high, with a trunk as thick as a truck, the Steampunk Tree House is a statement in steel and wood.
Art collective Five Ton Crane says it was created to "explore the relationship between our rapidly changing natural world and the persistent human drive to connect with it." We just think it's cool.
It sprang to life in the Nevada desert in 2007, a retro-futuristic focal point of the freak fest Burning Man. Half-clothed revelers swung from its branches, and musical madmen sounded its steam whistles. It saw two marriage proposals and 20,000 glowsticks. It was a refuge, a vantage point, a jungle gym and a gallery. … And then, when the festival ended, it was homeless.
We stumbled upon it online and fell in love. If we gave it a good home, Five Ton Crane said, we could have it for a dollar. That's right! For less than the price of a beer (we'll just keep the blissfully inefficient shipping and setup costs to ourselves), it was ours.
So here it is, our 12-ton conference room. There's a wood stove up there, a telescope, too. It's lit by Victorian sconces and fireflies. There are stained-glass windows and plank-wood floors, a hand-crank phone and a time-travel dashboard.
Things look different from up there. That's how we like it.
It's part past and part future, a perfect perch to reflect on where we've been and dream about where we're going.