When I was a child my dad made me a treehouse. It was very basic; a sheet of plywood cut to fit between a fork in the trunk of the tree. It was a great place from where to pelt my brother with oranges, but not a place to stay when it rained. Unlike some of these treehouses, which “range from functional to fanciful, sustainable to strange and affordable to incredibly expensive.” I guess we can’t all start living in Wellington’s town belt – maybe now would be a good time to plant a native, so in several decades you could retire to the treetops?