Some treehouses are just for kids. And then there’s Sir Cedric’s Cedar Treehouse — a grown-up dream with bark, beams, and a big heart beating at its center. Tucked away in a hush of green somewhere off the map (or at least off the highway), this hideaway is more than a getaway. It’s a memory — one built slowly, lovingly, over two and a half years.
Scott, the guy behind it, didn’t build this because it was trendy or because treehouses are Instagrammable (though, yes, it is pretty photogenic). He built it as a love letter to his son. To the cedar tree they used to climb together, hang around, tell stories near. That tree? It’s still standing tall — and somehow, gently, the entire house wraps around it like a hug. It’s been done so carefully, so thoughtfully, that the cedar keeps growing, untouched and totally unbothered.
And then there’s the roof — or, more specifically, the spot where the tree goes through the roof. Yep. There’s a massive rubber seal there, which is pretty clever. Most of the time it keeps the rain out, but sometimes, during a good storm, a few drops sneak in. It's kind of poetic, really. You're sleeping with a tree, not under glass. A little water? Just part of the charm.
Inside, it’s as warm and weird and wonderful as you’d hope. Nothing matchy-matchy or mass-produced — just salvaged wood, flea-market finds, old doorknobs, and repurposed treasures. It feels like every corner has a story, probably because it does. And if you're even remotely into that cozy, slightly boho, lived-in vibe? You're going to love it here.
It’s not roughing it either. There’s a comfy bed, warm lighting, and thoughtful touches everywhere. It’s nostalgic, sure, but not naive. The kind of place where you can sip wine on the deck and feel like a kid and a grown-up all at once.
Outside, the forest does its thing — birds, breeze, a squirrel or two — and you do yours. Whether that’s reading, writing, napping, or just being is entirely up to you. With rates starting at around €156 per night, it’s surprisingly affordable for something so, well, personal.
Sir Cedric’s isn’t a hotel. It’s not a resort. It’s something smaller, quieter, and much more rare — a story you can step inside.
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