During childhood, most of us will admit to having spent time climbing trees. Whether making dens in hollow trunks, swinging from the lower branches, or even nailing in a few planks to make a platform among the boughs, there aren’t many children who have failed to feel a thrill at the prospect of climbing much higher than common-sense, or their parents, would allow.

When adulthood arrives, such enjoyable pursuits are replaced by the more mundane. Grown ups in trees are a rare spectacle – a cause for alarm should you stumble across one during a walk in the woods. Yet that yearning to be at one with nature, to escape the hum-drum events of real life and go back to your roots, so to speak, never quite goes away.

‘Treehouses seem to fascinate everyone, children think they’re a makebelieve land, men view them as adventurous and women as romantic.


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