A year ago, Aurelio, our eldest son, visited Ivalo for the first time. One afternoon, as he stood admiring the imposing size of the pine trees, he suddenly said: “I want a treehouse.”
The inner child in Sven and the little girl inside me immediately appeared through our smiles. We looked into each other’s eyes. Aurelio had also awakened a little demon.
We immediately answered: “Next year, once your sister has been born, the four of us will come back and build it wherever you want. You will choose the trees.”
A Treehouse in Ivalo: Aurelio’s Dream
With that project packed away in our suitcase, we arrived in Ivalo on July 21, 2015.
Aurelio remembered perfectly the moment when he had let the genie out of the bottle. “I already know where I want the treehouse. Right here, between these trees.”
– But Aurelio –, I protested, “that would be far too big.”
– It doesn’t matter, Mom. The house is for Savanna too. And you can go inside as well. – Sven gave me his puppy-dog look. – Well, Dad, you too, of course.
So, before we had even unpacked our suitcases with clothes, mosquito repellent, creams, or whatever else we needed, Aurelio had perfectly remembered not only being there before, but also where his 2015 summer project was going to be.
That night, we slept happily after finally reaching our little wooden fortress.
Reindeer and Nature in Ivalo
The next day, when we stepped out of the cabin, the reindeer greeted us. As always, they grazed at a respectful distance.
Whenever I see them, I feel as though I am invading their space. As if I were sitting in their living room, on their favorite sofa, legs stretched out and getting in the way. Like an unwanted visitor while they secretly looked for the broom behind the door.
Reindeer are such a silent and subtle presence that seeing them makes your heart jump. They inspire a kind of tender surprise, like when children first learn to stand on their own and you smile nervously.
Never coming too close. They are cautious and nervous. Aurelio watched them respectfully and, naturally, would have loved to touch one.
Building the Treehouse in Ivalo
After allowing our eyes to adjust a little more to the greens and blues of the landscape, we saw our reflections in the Ivalojoki, the Ivalo River.
We drank coffee from the traditional wooden cups of Lapland and contacted the person who sold the timber we needed to build the foundation.
Once we had the wood, we decided to personalize the house a little more.
We bought some old windows from a Sami person’s garage at a price that basically meant, “I just want to get rid of these.”
The Sami are the largest Indigenous people in Europe by population. They live across areas of Russia, Finland, Sweden, and Norway.
A Glass House in the Trees
Once we had our windows and timber, we discovered that our project was growing.
While passing a gas station, we noticed that it was being demolished. The windows from its café were being set aside to be thrown away.
After negotiating a very good deal, we also acquired numerous high-quality windows for our glass house in the tree. That was what we began calling our treehouse after proudly counting all the windows we had collected.
The windows gave us an important new perspective. From inside the house, we could still see the nature surrounding us. We could also watch the reindeer more cautiously.
Life in the Nature of Lapland
In Ivalo, we lost all sense of time. The sun would disappear for a couple of minutes and then return, well rested, to keep shining. We barely knew the date or the time.
Between the pure air, the first blueberries appearing, and swims in the lakes and rivers around us, Aurelio and Savanna grew like pine trees in the forest without us even noticing.
Savanna was growing teeth as leaves grow on trees. Aurelio became a kind of radio sponge, interacting with everything and everyone.
The silence of Ivalo allowed us to hear the mushrooms growing.
Our glass house in the tree gave us work. It was the kind of work that is easily overlooked when you express a wish so casually.
Aurelio took on the role of construction manager while Sven assembled and hammered. The saw and its rhythm gave Savanna a new way to express herself through her body.
Every time she heard her father sawing, she danced and laughed, proudly showing off her new teeth.
We spent our days surrounded by nails and wood. The dream was becoming more real with every passing day.
Although we suddenly realized that the house would not be ready until 2016, we were determined to do as much as possible. We worked on the walls, the window frames, and the wooden scraps.
On the hottest days, we immersed ourselves in the amber waters of the Ivalojoki or the emerald waters of Pasasjärvi.
We inflated a kayak like a party balloon and paddled without a destination or a strategy.
Our only commitment was to remain attentive to nature’s call. It was easy to feel tiny beneath so much open sky.
I always felt as though there were eyes everywhere watching us.
Untouched nature has an energy that lashes your back and makes you bow almost instinctively.
Being in Ivalo is like visiting a very old man who knows a great deal. He only speaks when you are truly paying attention and close your eyes.
When the Treehouse Became a Family Project
We extended our stay and changed our route. The treehouse became a project that demanded more and more of our time.
We went from romance to falling deeply in love with the place. Before long, we were completely committed.
Our new plan was to stay as long as possible and move the project forward as much as we could.
Instead of returning on August 6 as planned, we would now leave on the 20th.
As soon as we made that decision, everything seemed to conspire to distract us from building.
The sun stayed out longer and invited us to swim. Blueberries turned everything within my field of vision purple.
Mushrooms appeared alongside onions and oil, tempting us to cook more and more.
The barbecue area, with its spectacular view of the Ivalojoki, seduced us with its twisted wooden shapes.
The breaks from construction became a source of inspiration. Talking about the treehouse and our plans for 2016 became our favorite pastime.
After twenty days in Ivalo, we had grown so accustomed to the purity the place offered us. We regularly took saunas, drank water from the stream, and ate berries and mushrooms from the forest.
I began to notice, without concern, that roots were growing from my feet when I walked barefoot. I played at being a tree and could see the Kukkeli birds up close. They are considered good-luck birds in the region.
After 25 days, I could comb my green hair without the slightest embarrassment.
The forest scent made me happy. My eyes hurt whenever I saw more than 50 people in the village supermarket.
My laughter was no longer loud enough to frighten the reindeer. They had apparently spread the word and appointed a young albino reindeer as the spy for our construction project. He visited us every day.
The Last Summer at the Treehouse
With great effort, we managed to complete the foundation and the four walls of the house.
We realized how much time had passed because the sun was beginning to disappear for six long hours.
Autumn began to announce its arrival at night. The Ivalojoki was covered in mist.
Our house would remain without a roof. We planned to return in 2016 to complete the dream of a four-year-old boy.
It was not easy to pack up our camp this time. Nature embraces you tightly. It fills you with its smells and flavors and does not offer an easy relationship to leave behind.
With salty pearls kissing our cheeks, we looked at our beautiful glass house, guarded by an albino reindeer that gave us the certainty that everything would be fine when we returned.
Leaving Ivalo to Return
On the journey home, I noticed my dark brown hair and my hands empty of blueberries.
My feet no longer had roots.
The smell—the smell of the forest—I caught just before it disappeared and sealed it into my senses forever.
In the early hours of August 21, we reached the Pyhäjärvi campsite.
I recovered and hugged my pillow, exhausted, deeply nostalgic, but completely satisfied.
Now I close my eyes and let myself fall, just as I did so many times backward into the amber river, to dream.
Ivalo, Inari, and their surroundings in northern Finland, in Lapland, hold a mystery.
A mystery I thought I had lost among the concrete jungles that cover so much of our planet.
They hold the scent of moss, red-capped mushrooms, and clean river water. I invite you to visit northern Finland. But I warn you: beware of an excess of purity.
