The Front Door

Living by feel, not formula.

I'm beginning to zero in on the area of Virginia where I want to build my home—a beautiful little valley within thirty minutes of my son and his family. The excitement is real.

But I also know that until I find the right piece of land and spend time walking it—sunrise, sunset, midday shadows—I won't truly know what belongs there.

The land speaks. It always does. It tells me what kind of home wants to be built. Where the light should come in, how the rooms should open, which tree deserves a window. But what I'm most excited about right now is the interior. The feeling. That first moment of arrival. Not square footage. Not programmatic flow. Just presence.

I've been sketching ideas in my head, and as always, I begin at the front door. I picture a close friend, maybe you, coming for a visit. As the door opens and you step in, what do you feel? What do you see?

A soft light? Music in the background? A quiet moment of beauty? Maybe a small table with a vase of fresh-cut flowers from the garden. Maybe a piece of art that says this is a home where something deeper lives.

I'm walking through this house in my mind slowly—room by room, moment by moment. I don't chase efficiency. I follow rhythm. I want the house to feel alive. Honest. Human.

And maybe that's because I'm redesigning something else at the same time—my life.

I'm rebuilding from the inside out. Not just laying out plans and calling it purpose, but listening and letting my heart speak. Letting the silence between the walls tell me what matters.

Because just like a home, a life can be over-structured and underfelt. You can fill it with good things and still miss the beauty. You can add more rooms and still feel alone.

This next home I build matters. But not just for the rooms, the views, and the garden I hope to grow. It matters because it mirrors something else that's being rebuilt in me—a deeper way of living. A slower pace. A gentler voice. A front door that opens with intention.

So, as this process unfolds, thank you for walking it with me.

This is more than a house. It's a way of becoming.