Tip-top treehouses

As a child, Matt Rice loved his treehouse equipped with a fireman's pole, slide, and sandbox - a guy zone where he could play fort.

"I just remember spending hours upon hours up there," said Rice, 40, of Hanover, Pa. "Those are fond memories."

Now he's all grown up - according to the calendar, at least - and has a child of his own, 7-year-old daughter Lily. The former snack-food project manager and now stay-at-home dad wanted her to delight in a house up a tree, like he did. And truth be told, the "adrenaline junkie" who has lots of that adventurous boy left in him was eager to frolic in the canopy.

So he got Lily (and himself) some treehouse: a tricked-out custom beauty, 27 feet off the ground, in a sprawling elm. It's got a fireman's pole, of course, and rope swing, winding staircase, climbing wall, manual elevator swing, 360-foot zip line, wraparound deck, and more.

That's just the outside. Inside, the 220-square-foot house, with one-inch-wide hickory paneling, gray carpet, and real windows, is two stories - tall enough to invite over a basketball player.

Once upon a time, treehouses were humble abodes made of a few pieces of plywood and a rope ladder.

Some may still desire that. But others have moved up. In recent years, treehouses have grown into something akin to castles in the clouds. No longer only for kids, the Swiss Family Robinson-like spreads are popular as a retreat for the whole family or even a cloistered space for adults. Prices can begin in the few thousands of dollars and go as high as $100,000 or more.

Why are arboreal estates so sought after?

Treehouse huggers "want to be closer to heaven," said the appropriately named Jonathan Fairoaks, owner of Living Tree in Glenmoore, Chester County, which built the Rice quarters. "It brings out the essence of people, the childlike nature. We leave our troubles behind and climb up into the tree boughs."

Amenities are everything.

Rice's childhood haunt - built by his father and grandfather and then checked by a contractor for structural soundness at the behest of his mother - had its share of cool. But the $30,000 house with clerestory windows on a 16-by-20 platform, completed this summer, beats the old one hands down.

"I was thinking of something simpler," Rice said. But extras piled up as Fairoaks set out the options. "I'm sure a lot of people think it's nuts," he said of the expense.

"You only go around this planet once," he reasoned. "Might as well enjoy it."

Rice especially enjoys the Tarzan aspect of the zip line, which he plans to extend to three other canopy platforms. He could have added electricity and plumbing - which luxury treehouses have been known to boast - but said he preferred the "rustic aspect. If you put in electricity and running water, you might as well make it part of the house."

Lily likes the fireman's pole best, and "I like to sit in my hammock and relax," she said. "It's comfortable."

But Jody Flaherty, 39, Lily's mother and a treatment coordinator for an orthodontist, isn't attracted by the bells and whistles. "I like the view," she said.

In Media, Delaware County, 6-year-old Chloe Muller's favorite feature of her elegant backyard escape is the wicker basket that works on a rope pulley. Sometimes her parents send up snacks.

"My mom said I could have a swimming pool or a treehouse. I picked a treehouse," the wise child explained.

The cedar house with cedar shingles sits on an asymmetrical octagonal 10-by-10-foot platform 14 feet off the ground - not literally in the tall, pin-straight red oak, but built around it, with a bouncy plank bridge that connects to the family deck.

"Most people have no idea what's possible," said arborist Steve Chmielnicki, owner of Artisan Tree & Treehouse in Rosemont, who built the whimsical abode last year, one of about three dozen the business constructs annually.

The front door, set off with a gnarled applewood handle, opens onto a room with three sets of double-paned windows (with wooden shutters) that look onto a leafy yard. A button-rope swing dangles under the front porch.

Chloe has decorated with pink and purple folding travel chairs and a small wooden table. Her baby doll sits in a corner. A stack of board games is nearby, and a lantern gives after-hours light.

Chloe climbs a ladder and crawls into a loft, where she can look out of the Plexiglas clerestory windows.

"When it was first built, she packed her suitcase and brought all her stuff out here," said her mother, Peggy Scherle, 46, a biologist. "That lasted for a couple of hours, and she came back inside."

Now, friends come over to play, and the family frequently has dinner at Chloe's, said her father, Alex Muller, 46, a cancer researcher.

The child's only complaint is the housekeeping.

"I have to deal with the spiders," said Dad, good-naturedly.