The bush that grew over the hills above our house wasn’t pretty, and it didn’t make an easy sense. It was grubby and damp, a muddle of tree roots, rotted tree trunks, supplejack, and periwinkle – a scrambling, hairless weed with tubular flowers. None of the trees were conducive to treehut building. They were too spindly, too tall, or too difficult, their trunks lathered in moss.