STAIRWAY TO HAVEN
Women create aeries in tricked-out tree houses.
Fourteen feet above the ground, in a tree house nestled between the branches of three adjacent sycamore trees, Puneet Sandhu can finally clear her head.
When she’s not running her dental practice and teaching classes at San Jose City College, she spends her weekends providing discounted dental care to military members and licensing foreign dentists. Sandhu, 40, is also the mother of two children, 8 years, and 16 months.
In the absence of discovering an eighth day of the week to relax and unwind, Sandhu craved a getaway spot — a space that was hers and hers alone.
“Ever since I was a kid, I’ve always wanted a tree house,” said Sandhu, who grew up in India. She now lives in Milpitas, just north of San Jose. “I need to get away, but I can’t get away because I have kids. So, I thought, what if I got away, but only 20 feet from my house?”
Two years ago, Sandhu commissioned a tree house. It now sits adjacent to her threebedroom, ranch-style home. But this isn’t just any tree house. At 300 square feet, Sandhu’s lavish, multi-storied structure has two bedrooms, a sleeping loft, a spiral staircase and stained-glass windows. A zip line is next, with a full bathroom and kitchenette also in the works. So far, the project has set her back about $70,000.
Sandhu and her husband, who works as an engineer, each have a pool of discretionary income for personal projects. And although she’d occasionally share sketches of the tree house with her husband to elicit feedback, Sandhu was the primary driver, overseeing the yearlong project from start to finish.
For centuries, women have been told that the home is their domestic sanctuary, with men subsequently carving out islands for their own enjoyment — think man cave or garage turned toolshed or finished basement replete with La-Z-Boy recliner and 60-inch television. In other words, if the home is truly the woman’s space, why the need for a separate area?
But for the well-heeled 21st century woman looking for something more than a walkin closet, the Bay Area equivalent may just be a tree house. From Santa Cruz to Mendocino (including parts farther south and north), Northern California is a mecca for tree house enthusiasts. Lately, a group of women is leading the charge — combining aspects of both the tiny house movement and “she shed” phenomenon to create idyllic, creative spaces from which to think, read or simply enjoy a glass of wine.
The precise number of Bay Area tree houses is difficult to quantify. Since most are 120 square feet or less and don’t have plumbing or electricity, they often fall into the category of play structures — convenient workarounds that require neither building permits nor architectural exemptions. Still, restrictions vary from county to county, with tree house designers and builders wellversed in necessary permitting processes when needed.
“It’s not just children’s play structures anymore,” said Dustin Feider, 34, who designed and built Sandhu’s tree house in San Jose. Since opening 02 Treehouse in Oakland, Feider has created more than 50 tree houses around the country, including Portugal and a recent installation in Tasmania. Feider specializes in modern, oftentimes playful designs that rarely resemble traditional, pitch-roofed tree houses.
The launch of his business in 2007 happily coincided with the boom of the green movement, with more customers suddenly drawn to using sustainable materials and living among nature. And while children’s play spaces are also in his portfolio, he’s increasingly being asked to execute fully livable structures.
Feider’s main requirements are “solid trees” — be it redwoods, oaks or pines — and discretionary income; his tree houses range from $10,000 to hundreds of thousands of dollars. Feider (booked out well into next year) still enjoys taking on smaller, lessexpensive projects since they offer space for exploration, whether through materials or forms.
Daria Joseph, 66, who lives in Marin County, built a tree house that resembles a work of art.
After several visitors declared her backyard an ideal tree house habitat, with three massive redwood trees clumped close together, Joseph decided to pursue the idea. She subsequently met with Jay Nelson, a San Francisco artist. The two immediately established an easy rapport.
“If I had tons of money and space, I would love to have artists in residence. I just love watching the creative process unfold,” said Joseph, whose grandfather was Erich Mendelsohn, the renowned modernist architect.
Feeling inspired, Nelson glanced at Joseph’s redwoods and started to draw. The pencil drawing (now framed) hangs in her tree house — 22 steps from the ground and cantilevered between three trees. So far, Nelson has designed and built five tree houses, using salvaged materials and reclaimed wood.
“I love building tree houses. But I wouldn’t ever want to just do tree houses,” said Nelson, who is a painter and also builds custommade campers, among several other creative pursuits. “I like to bounce between things and always come at it fresh.” Throughout the three-year process, Nelson and Joseph formed a close bond, each sharing a love of beautifully designed, well-made things.
Nelson’s friend, Matt Katsaros, a textile designer (the two artists share a wood shop in the Outer Sunset), created the pale cushions and geometric pillows that festoon Joseph’s seating area. It’s a beloved spot for afternoon tea and prime play space whenever Joseph’s 6-year-old granddaughter visits. A rope swing hangs in the shade just beneath.
“Some people call me because they literally have everything in the world except for a tree house — and all the money to do it,” explained Bryan Payseno, whose tree houses, from start to finish, take anywhere from a few weeks to a month. They cost $25,000 to $65,000, including labor, materials and travel time.
Payseno, 46, owns Prime Time Treehouses. Since starting his Chico business less than two years ago, he’s already built 13 tree houses throughout Northern California. After unveiling his website, he says that his phone started ringing almost instantaneously. When he’s not building tree houses, Payseno runs a party-planning company.
Cory McBride, 58, is one of Payseno’s clients. She splits her time between Santa Cruz and a vacation home in the Trinity Mountains, not far from the Oregon border. With 6 acres of land, two horses and plentiful oak trees, McBride decided it was time to make her tree house dreams a reality.
Payseno built McBride an elaborate 200square-foot structure nestled between two giant oak trees that sit side by side. Now transformed into a guest cottage, it includes a queen-size bed, composting toilet, woodburning stove, coffee bar and separate sleeping loft (she has four grandchildren).
“My husband was against it the whole time,” said McBride, now retired. “He considered it a silly expense.” During the warm summer months, McBride often visits the deck, sitting in the shade in the evening to admire the view and feel the cool breeze.
Meanwhile, Catherine New calls it her “Marie Antoinette moment,” readily conceding that a certain amount of frivolity goes into building a tree house.
New, 41, a former journalist, works as an editor at a San Francisco technology company.
The idea of building a tree house was a pipe dream for New until she sold her apartment on New York’s Upper West Side, where she’d lived for nearly 15 years, earlier this year. New promptly siphoned off $20,000 to $25,000, eager to build something of her own.
Earlier this year, she reached out to Feider, the Oakland tree house designer, with an eye toward a piece of land in the Santa Cruz Mountains that her parents had bought more than 40 years ago.
“In California, new ideas take root,” said New, having recently scaled Mount Whitney. “Some people have a midlife crisis and buy a boat or a sports car. I’m going to build a tree house. It’s like a dollhouse — but for an adult woman.”
Although Feider doesn’t have time to start working on New’s project until early next year, her off-the-grid escape can’t come soon enough. On weekends, New, who lives in the Mission District with Wayne, her yellow Labrador, imagines driving 50 minutes south to her treetop retreat surrounded by lush redwoods. Once there, she plans to write, read, meditate — and maybe even sneak in the occasional nap.
“The quiet is the destination,” New said. Besides building a simple structure made of repurposed pine, New has designs on a boxand-pulley system so that Wayne can join her. And, in many ways, the tree house will provide a necessary counter to her frenetic day job.
“It’s the opposite of building software or writing words on the Internet,” said New, already fantasizing about hammers and nails — not to mention attractive, bearded construction workers in overalls.