Somewhere in our collective DNA is an affinity to tent making.
It seems almost instinctive for a small child to create a comforting shelter, with the use of a few sheets and the sides of a well placed chair.
Who hasn't fashioned a little hideaway under the bedcovers, by which to read a book by torch light, late at night.
And mothers everywhere, know to leave well alone, the tented paradise created out of what once was the living room floor.
I wonder sometimes, when I look out at the sprawling mansions that hug the hillsides of our beautiful city, if something very essential has been lost in the boundless echoes of 'important' rooms.
What if the small child that yearns for the womb-like embrace of a smaller space, must needs be find comfort in some other less gentle way.
I love the childhood memories that are conjoured by these romantic images.
They make me want to pitch a tent in the front garden, like my beautiful friend Cathy does, away from the distractions of domestic life.
(It is a sobering thought of course, to remember the homeless out there right now, trying to secure their shelters against the coming winter.)
For the rest of us, a little bit of magic under which to dream...
xxx elle
I have always loved the ambience of a tent. Blanket tents outside in the summer, forts from couch cushions, and then real tents pitched in the wilderness. I still would love a tipi somewhere in a summer mountain meadow.
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