Down We Go
Our first big decision on site—and why lowering the house four feet might make it even better.
Last week, we drove out to Smith Mountain Lake to see something we've been waiting a long time for:
A very big hole in the ground.
The foundation has officially been dug.
And, naturally, we already had a decision to make.
Joe and Matt, our project manager with Sole Source Solution, discovered that because of the way the land falls away behind the house, we had two choices: keep the house at its planned elevation and deal with a retaining wall at the back, or lower the house approximately four feet and allow the grade to flow much more naturally toward the lake.
For us, the answer became pretty clear.
But it wasn't without a tradeoff.
Designing From the Back of the House Forward
One of the biggest priorities for this home has always been the connection to the lake.
We want kids running barefoot between the house, pool, yard and beach. We want guests to be able to wander outside without thinking about where the steps are. We want the lower level to feel connected to the landscape rather than perched above it.
I think constantly about bodies in motion when I'm designing a home.
Where are people walking? Where will twenty people naturally congregate? Is there a pinch point? Is there a dead end? Does everyone have to take the same path to get somewhere?
Apparently, this philosophy now extends to grading.
Lowering the house gives us a much more natural transition from the back of the house toward the beach and lake. No awkward retaining wall. No unnecessary steps for kids to navigate as they run in and out.
For the way we want to live here, that's a pretty significant win.
But There Was Something I Didn't Want to Give Up
The front of this house is beautiful.
We have a long Low Country-inspired front porch, a cupola, and three sets of doors opening onto the porch—all stained mahogany front doors that I have been very excited about.
So yes, I was a little bummed when I realized what lowering the house meant.
From the road, instead of seeing the entire front facade and those beautiful doors, we'll probably see about three-quarters of them.
And there's another reality of Low Country architecture:
There's a lot of roof.
Lower the house four feet and suddenly you're looking at even more roof from the road.
For a minute, the designer in me was mourning the front elevation I'd been picturing.
But then Chris and I talked about it on the drive home.
And I started to see it differently.
A Very Glamorous Day on the Job
I should probably explain one of the photos from this particular site visit.
Yes, that's Chris.
Yes, he's barefoot.
And yes, that's a red Solo cup.
No, it isn't a cocktail.
Apparently red Solo cups have uses beyond questionable college beverages. Chris will "throw in a dip" when he's stressed, and let's just say building a custom lake house of this scale has provided him with...opportunities.
Apparently we're already at the red-Solo-cup stage of construction.
We'd had a stressful morning before we even left for the lake, it was incredibly hot, and by the time we'd climbed around the excavation and discussed moving an entire house four feet, Chris was done.
Completely done.
I had been promised lunch at one of my favorite lake restaurants.
Instead, we went directly home.
I was not pleased.
So, in the interest of accurately documenting Follow the Journey: custom home building is not all beautiful samples, lake views and glamorous site visits.
Sometimes you're standing in the dirt discussing grading.
Sometimes your husband is barefoot beside an excavator with a red Solo cup.
And sometimes you don't even get lunch.
Moving on.
Maybe the House Wasn't Supposed to Reveal Itself All at Once
Our lot sits on a point between two cul-de-sacs, so it's very visible as you come around the corner.
I'd always assumed you'd turn the corner and—there it is.
Instead, lowering the house will nestle it into the property.
We'll have a small retaining wall toward the front, and our semicircular driveway will gently drop down toward the house, curve across the front and bring you back out again.
The house will reveal itself as you approach it.
And I love that.
I've talked before about not wanting this home to give everything away the moment you walk through the door. I want there to be discovery—views around corners, unexpected rooms, little details you don't notice immediately.
Now the property itself is going to do the same thing.
You'll catch the roofline and cupola from the road. Then you'll descend into the driveway and the house will begin to appear.
What initially felt like a compromise may actually create a much more intimate arrival.
It also gives us something I hadn't really considered: privacy.
Being on a prominent corner lot means the house could have felt fairly exposed. Sitting four feet lower will tuck the front porch away from the road and make that enormous porch feel a little more private and protected.
Sometimes the thing you lose creates something you didn't know you needed.
Even the Driveway Has No Dead Ends
The semicircular driveway was intentional from the beginning.
And this one comes directly from real life.
For the last two years, we've shared our Blacksburg home with an aging parent who requires almost around-the-clock care. That means caregivers coming and going at all hours—and cars. So. Many. Cars.
Cars in the driveway. Cars blocked into the driveway. Cars on the street. Someone needs to leave, someone else has to move. Someone arrives, we're rearranging again.
I'm fairly certain our neighbors will throw a small parade when we FINALLY expand our driveway at the Blacksburg house. Coming this September! Shout out to the wonderful HOA for approving this request.
Living this way has taught me something I probably wouldn't have put quite so high on my lake-house wish list before:
I want flow before anyone even gets through the front door.
We're building this house to host a lot of people, so I don't want fifteen guests arriving for the weekend and immediately playing the same game of automotive Tetris we've been playing at home for two years.
The driveway will sweep down toward the house, travel across the front and curve right back out.
Pull in. Drop someone off. Keep going. Leave whenever you want.
Nobody has to find Mary Kate because they're blocked in.
No dead ends—even outside.
This Is Why the Team Matters
Before making the decision, we asked Joe and Matt a very simple question:
“If this were your house, what would you do?”
They'd lower it.
That mattered to us.
One of the things we appreciate most about working with Joe is that he approaches his projects as though he were building the house for himself. When something comes up in the field, I don't just want someone to tell me what can be done. I want to know what they believe should be done.
Plans are incredibly important.
But a set of drawings can't anticipate every inch of dirt on a piece of land.
Sometimes the best decision happens standing in a giant hole with the people who know what they're doing.
So, four feet down we go.
I'll lose a little of my mahogany-door moment from the road.
In exchange, we'll get a house that sits more naturally on its property, better access to the lake, more privacy, a cozier arrival, and the kind of indoor-outdoor flow we've wanted from the beginning.
I'll take that trade.