I love building driftwood forts and I also love encountering ones built by others. In fact, I may enjoy the encountering even more. No two forts are ever alike. I never meet the other builders. They know nothing of my passion for forts or writing about them. Every now and then, I come across a fort that astonishes or delights me or I can’t figure out.
The latter happened yesterday morning. It is pictured here. It’s not a fort, I think. It feels like more of an outpost of some kind, built right where the high tide ends. In fact, I could tell the fort had withstood a a few waves. I might also add that the fort was a good 40 yards from where driftwood rested. Someone hauled about 30-40 pieces that distance. That’s intent and commitment. That is a mind and body at work.
I doubt anyone actually hung out in the fort, but perhaps someone did, and just sat behind it and watched the waves lay siege to it. I have no idea. It is a mystery. Maybe a metaphor.
I invite your speculations.