When I built the treehouse, the second floor was dedicated entirely to playing chess. My business partner, Ted Walsh, a master craftsman, built a custom chess set for me out of twigs and sticks and bits of copper and aluminum. It’s very cool. The chess board rests on a shelf above a branch that passes right through the treehouse, and the pieces live on shelves next to the door that leads out to the second floor deck.
I went up into the treehouse yesterday to get something and discovered that the door on the second floor had blown open during the very high winds we had over the past weekend (gusts to 60), and that the room was now full of pine needles. Oddly, not a single chess piece had been blown off the shelves, even though they were right next to the open door. How these little men and women, made from twigs and resting on felt-covered bases, withstood the big blasts from the northwest is a mystery to me. But then, the treehouse is always a mysterious place, even in calm weather.