A few winters ago, at the time of year when whipping winds send ice crystals into every crevasse, from keyholes to tree bark, a gentleman appeared at a site on the southern coast of Maine, the location of his future home.

He was there to meet an architectural designer to figure out how high the house should sit in order to capture the best views. He was there in dress shoes, having come straight from work in Boston, but that didn’t stop him. He instinctively jumped atop the railing of a frozen wooden deck and peered out, balancing as he took in Saco Bay, Richmond Island, and beyond.

“I was watching him, just scared to death he would slip,” admits his designer, Trevor Watson. “But it worked—that’s how we ended up setting the elevation.”

Watson, who at the time was the design lead for Eider Investments, a design-build-maintain company based out of Prouts Neck, knew that this element of the project was critical to get right. (He now holds a similar position at Knickerbocker Group.) Even for an Eider house—and there are many—this one’s location is exceptional: the eastern coast of the peninsula, with both bay and ocean views as well as frontage to protected wetlands. With three rewarding exposures on an already coveted slice of waterfront, it felt crucial to maximize the benefits of the rarified location with the enjoyment of a future family home. The site is among the rarest and most sought-after slices of the eastern seaboard—no pressure!

Watson was soon joined by interior designer Leandra Fremont-Smith and noted landscape design firm Mitchell and Associates, charged with shaping the outdoor spaces as well as protecting the adjacent wetlands. Together, the team launched into the rapid-fire design and construction schedule necessary for a summer cottage that ultimately would allow one Boston-area family to slow way down.

The collaboration yielded Spindrift, a stately shingled home with contemporary design sensibilities and modern conveniences—an underground garage, for example. On Prouts, with its rich artistic and architectural heritage, there’s a high bar for residential elegance, and the team took on the task hungrily. But there was a step before that: navigating the famously challenging bylaws of the Prouts Neck community.

In order to partake in the rich offerings of the peninsula—there are four private clubs (one boating, one bathing, and two tennis) for its roughly 200 families—it’s prudent to adhere to the community association’s guidelines, which include no major building during the high season. “And June 15 comes around quickly,” says Watson. That means no hauling of lumber or windows, no flatbed trucks, and no major disturbances for a quarter of the year. “But the truth is, those rules are less about noise and inconvenience and more about the kids,” explains Watson. Indeed, like other special communities in coastal Maine, Prouts Neck is a place where children roam freely, on bare feet and on bikes, moving from beach to club and back home again.

The architectural designer’s first assignment was working with the homeowner to determine what the flavor of the home would be. “With a coastal cottage like this, you have two options,” Watson explains. “There’s the subdued elegance of John Calvin Stevens, Maine’s most famous architect, or the more whimsical Emersonian architecture prevalent in Bar Harbor. The style of Stevens is more muted, which is appropriate for Prouts Neck.” Stevens designed an estimated 18 houses here, and each offers an invitation to enjoy the lush and craggy New England landscape from inside and out, via broad porches and banks of windows. Unsurprisingly, Stevens was also a landscape painter and a crony of Winslow Homer. (In the 1880s Stevens designed the painter’s still-standing home studio as well as houses for the artist’s two brothers; payment for at least one house came in the form of a painting.)

An embracing of the landscape was paramount in the planning of Spindrift. In laying out the outdoor living room, porches, picture windows, and primary-suite deck, Watson heeded the path of the sun as it arches over the south side of the property and then sets over the front door. When you come through the front door you’re given the best view in the house: a sweep of the beaches and out to Richmond Island. “These houses are showpieces— they’re works of art—and you want people to feel amazed,” adds the designer.

Alongside highlighting the site’s best exposures, the design team also minimized its challenges. Smartly, the wall closest to a neighbor isn’t an expanse of windows but a handsome shingled exterior opposite a gas fireplace inside, thereby preserving both comfort and privacy.

Many interior layout decisions were made in chorus with Fremont-Smith, a Yarmouth-based interior designer with projects from South Florida to Northeast Harbor. Fremont-Smith was handed an unusual-for-her challenge: her able partners—color and pattern—weren’t welcome on this jobsite. Her portfolio points to a body of work that reconciles Northeast prudence with a joie de vivre typically seen closer to the Tropic of Capricorn. But this project, with its warm, collaborative team (both homeowners and professionals), pushed her to channel her creativity down a new, more subdued path.

In the absence of vibrant hues, Fremont-Smith turned to texture and contrast to imbue the home with warmth and character. The floor stain, a shade of walnut that the interior designer describes as the palest of the darker hues, plays a critical role in grounding diaphanous paint colors, and a grasscloth wallcovering in the den adds depth in a way that paint can’t. Chevron-pattern shiplap creates an expansive entryway ceiling that adds interest and integrity the second you cross the threshold. “This project taught me a lot about playing with neutrals,” she says.

“I thought a lot about the winter and how, even if there isn’t color, to still make it feel warmed up,” says Fremont- Smith. Her team landed on a spectrum of whites and creams in keeping with the client’s request for tranquility and timelessness. “Still, I shy away from beige and gray,” Fremont-Smith explains. “Especially in cooler light, it can look dingy.” Instead, a chalky off-white—Slipper Satin from Farrow and Ball—fit the bill. “It had never been my go-to color, but in the sun-filled parts of the house, it felt right.”

Look closely, though, and her firm’s signature hallmarks are still there: thoughtful trims on the upholstery, a handful of personality-full printed textiles on window treatments and cushions, dashes of unexpected color like the pale orchid powder-room vanity, and a brass lighting scheme that adds a cheerful glint throughout the home.

The kicker is, those decorating final touches happened at the onset of peak season, past the date that a box truck could make a few efficient trips for an all-at-once installation. Instead, Fremont-Smith and her team repacked dozens of items and sent them off to Prouts Neck, piecemeal, in passenger cars. And as those cars, slowed to the requisite pokey (and safe) 25 miles per hour, made their deliveries to this elegant rock, kids were already playing outside in bare feet and on bikes. In time, two more would join: new neighbors from a perfectly perched house called Spindrift.

*Names have been changed to protect the clients’ anonymity.

It was easy, explains Mary Bridger, for the extended family to gather at a rental home when the kids were young, and the grandkids nonexistent. “We started coming to Maine around 15 years ago,” she says. “We did Ogunquit, Prouts Neck, and Biddeford Pool. We were familiar with the area, but we hadn’t thought about building a summer home.” Back then, they were able to put aside two weeks a year, wrangle the schedules, and get everyone in the same place. But, as her kids grew older and their lives grew more complicated, the task became near impossible. “The concept of two weeks together just fell apart,” she says. “We realized that we needed a place where people could come and go when they wanted.”

For the Bridgers, the idea of doing a new build was daunting. Their house in Concord, Massachusetts, was old and needed only occasional fixing and renovations. “We thought we would just buy something. But we couldn’t find a place big enough or situated correctly,” says Paul Bridger. Over the years, the couple had noticed a piece of land for sale in Biddeford right by the water. They rode by it on their bicycles, but for a long time they didn’t bother to inquire. It’s common, explained Paul, for lots like this to sit idle. “There are so many various easements on properties,” he says. “Being close to the marsh, you can’t put in a septic.”

Yet the desire to reinstate the annual family tradition grew stronger, so they started looking for solutions. With a bit of finagling, they were able to convince the neighbors to agree to stop pumping their waste through the lot. “I got together with all the interested parties and told them, ‘How about I build you a new septic system,’” Paul recalls. “It was the key to unlocking the land so we could build a sizable house. We have seven grandchildren, and six of them are boys. It’s very active.”

Designed by architect Jessica Jolin at Mobile Studio Design and constructed by Bowley Builders, the Bridgers’ Granite Point vacation home was made to suit their wild and crazy summer schedules and their wild and crazy young relatives. “They came to us with the mission of building a home that all families could enjoy at the same time for many years together, in a style that multiple generations could appreciate,” says Jolin. “They wanted a timeless coastal feel, natural materials, and pockets of space where they could be either social or private, both inside and outside.” The early drawings were for two-story structures, but as the process progressed Jolin realized she could squeeze in a third story, which became the kids’ space. Three en suite groupings make up the second story, and the first floor contains the communal areas (kitchen, sunroom, living room) and the owners’ suite. “It’s designed so people can be at the beach, or be on vacation, while other people are working.” Jolin adds, “It’s one of the larger houses we’ve ever designed.”

It feels big, but it doesn’t feel too big, say Paul and Mary, thanks to the thoughtful layout and impeccable construction. “The number one priority was ample space,” says Jolin, “but we were also able to splurge on some material selections.” On the exterior, Jolin opted for cedar shingles to “integrate seamlessly into the vernacular of the neighborhood.” Because of the site ordinance and setbacks—the Shoreland Overlay Zone line runs through the property, meaning the front and back of the house had to abide by separate sets of rules—Jolin and her team had to be precise about what went where. “Calculations were completed down to the individual bluestone stepping stones,” she says. Because the parcel of land was a corner lot, every side of the house needed to appear equally presentable. “It’s a busy little neighborhood, and we had to be conscious of that,” says Geoffrey Bowley. “The house is not tucked back on a five-acre parcel out in the woods. You have to be conscientious about that with your mechanics and your utilities. There’s no back of the house to hide things. Just about every side is observable.” To welcome visitors, Jolin created a side porch and entrance that opens into the “sand room,” which the Bridgers can use for everyday comings and goings. Located next to the laundry room (so guests can grab towels easily) and an outdoor shower (for kids to rinse off their sandy feet), this practical addition helps keep cleaning to a minimum.

In addition to the side porch entry, the house has a street-facing entrance and a water-facing door. This final portal is located underneath the standout feature of the exterior: a dramatic, curved second-story deck that overlooks the ocean. “The builders really embraced the execution there,” says Jolin. The deck features carved mahogany railings that sit atop a wall that is half cedar shingles and half cable railing, so that “the people from the street can’t tell what color your flip-flops are, but you can still see out to the ocean.” For Bowley’s crew, this element was a welcome challenge. “Anytime you build anything where you are trying to take a straight piece of wood and develop a curve, it gets tricky. That goes for any home,” Bowley says. “In this instance, we took larger pieces and then cut the curve into them.” To create continuity, the front door is also made from mahogany, subtly contrasting with the cool-toned shingles and the white trim. For the patios and walkways, landscape architect David Maynes chose bluestone, which he calls “a good budget option.” He says, “We floated paving and larger plantings so that it felt more like a ledge. We didn’t want it to feel like a paved walkway, but an organic ledge. We were conscious of being cost effective.” Surrounded by native grasses and successional plantings, the house looks at home on the peninsula, and not too polished.

Of course, this was the intention. “Informal” was one of the keywords the homeowners gave to their team of architects and craftspeople at the beginning of the process. This is particularly evident inside, where stone, wood, and simple forms dominate. The overall look is classic coastal with a modern twist, as evidenced by the stacked stone fireplace and the shiplap on the staircase. The couple was “prodded” to go in a streamlined and contemporary direction when it came to lighting and cabinet fixtures. “We’re both in our mid-70s, and we’ve lived in the same house in Concord for 45 years,” says Mary. “It took a little time to get used to the modern choices.” But, Paul adds, they’re glad they were flexible. “I like how the first floor feels Zen-like,” he says. As the house ascends, each floor gets more casual than the last. The second-floor bedrooms all feature white oak flooring and walnut furniture. A kitchenette allows guests to cook their own meals after hours, and the deck has proved a great success during family gatherings. The third floor is where the grandkids go to play and, Paul jokes, is “all designed around Ping-Pong.”

“We didn’t want anything frou frou,” says Mary. With smart appliances (controlled by both the homeowners and their son), the Maine house is “low-maintenance, easy, and secure.” So far, it’s held up beautifully to the winter storms, and their grandkids have no complaints about spending their summers by the Atlantic. “We knew we were building a house in a good location, but for me, the joy is about having a lot of family here, together, in this big open space,” says Paul. “And being in this neighborhood. It’s a very friendly, relaxed neighborhood, and we love walking around. On the family side, and on the local side, those are joyful things.”

When a New York couple decided to move to Maine in 2019, they dreamed of building a home exactly suited to their family. They had spent nearly 25 years making spaces their own in Manhattan and East Hampton, as well as drawing inspiration from their European travels, and they knew what they liked. But the building process was going to take time, and they were ready to move. “It was a conscious decision to leave the lifestyle in New York City,” says the wife. “We wanted to be near family, and have a more autonomous life, where we could own our businesses.” The husband came upon a home for sale with a lot going for it—especially its quiet, private location in an elegant neighborhood on the southern coast. It wasn’t perfect. “I didn’t like the interior,” he says, but that didn’t stand in the way: the home was soon theirs, and they began planning a renovation immediately.

The couple hired Chris Herlihy of Polestar Design to carry out the renovation. Herlihy had been project manager when the home was built, so was deeply familiar with every detail of the design. The home was unusually primed for renovation, says Herlihy. The original owners, he says, “had a dream, an ecological vision, and a budget, but the three did not align. I recommended that they move forward with the design of the dream and then scale or phase the project to meet the budget. When the design was complete, the family realized that they could have everything they wanted if they scaled back the interior finishes and left a couple of spaces completely unfinished. This was done without compromising the ecological vision and the use of durable materials on the exterior of the building.”

That meant there was space ready for reconfiguring, like an unfinished area above the garage, and lots of potential for upgrading the interior finishes. The new owners, with the help of Polestar Design, set about remaking the space into one they would love, with elevated finishes, lots of light, and a flow that suited their family. “We needed to make Maine our home, and part of that was customizing the house,” says the wife. “It was such a drastic change. We had the need to nest, because it was the next chapter in our lives. It was about really making it feel right for us.”

The kitchen, at the center of the family’s life, was a priority. “We love to cook,” says the husband. “For us, preparing meals together is an expression of love, a special time to connect with our family.” The original kitchen was large, with a convenient butler’s pantry, but they didn’t like the aesthetic—it had knotty pine floors and faux-brick features, rather than the clean, elegant look the couple preferred. The couple took the opportunity to create a kitchen exactly suited to the way they would use it. They had new cabinets custom designed specifically for their collection of cookware. “The detail within the cabinets is more important than the cabinets themselves,” says the wife. “They are really well thought out for ideal cooking conditions.” A large butler’s pantry was redone, with a wall oven (adjusted to the wife’s height), a second dishwasher, and customized open shelving that allows easy access to two stand mixers—one is reserved for bread making—and a variety of pots, pans, and platters.

The connection between the kitchen and dining area was opened up, and a small island was replaced with an oversized one, designed by the husband to incorporate plenty of storage. “There’s no dead space,” he points out, opening a touch-latch cabinet door. It’s topped with a spectacular 2-inch-thick slab of marble. “We pored over dozens of high-resolution pictures from a quarry in Carrara,” he says. “Finally, we found the perfect veining.” Once selected, the 2,000-pound slab was shipped from Italy, finished by the Paul White Company in Portland, and carefully moved into the house. “I couldn’t be here,” says the wife. “It was nerve-racking!”

Additional significant changes were made to the second-floor bedrooms and baths. The owners wanted their bedroom to be a true suite, with a sitting area, sleeping space, dual walk-in closets, and a spacious bath. They removed a small office to enlarge the space, replaced small windows with much larger ones, and added a fireplace, which they elevated so that it could be enjoyed from the bed during bedtime stories. The flow of the children’s bedrooms and bathroom was also changed: the rooms were widened, closets were added, and the rooms were joined through a shared bathroom. “We know the girls need to grow into their spaces,” says the wife. “Entering into the bathroom from the hallway—that wasn’t going to work.” A guest suite was added over the garage, and a space in the eaves became a playroom where the girls can freely strew their dolls and toys. “I’m pretty tidy,” says the wife, “but in here, it’s their space. They can make a mess and blare their records.”

With the exception of new and enlarged windows, the home’s modern-farmhouse exterior was left mainly untouched. The landscape, however, was a different story. “It was a sea of asphalt, a pretty harsh arrival,” says landscape architect Josh Tompkins. There was little division between the driveway and the house, so delivery trucks “felt like they were coming into the room,” says the wife. The homeowners envisioned something like a European motor court, with crushed stone instead of asphalt and a more inviting entrance. Working within the constrained space, Tompkins created a “graceful” loop driveway with a sizable island in the middle, enabling several deciduous trees to be planted. The addition of trees, says Tompkins, softens the building’s facade and smooths the transition between architecture and landscape. They also offer a more abstract benefit: “The seasonality of trees can bring that fourth dimension: change over time,” he says. “If you bring them front and center, they can really add some mystery. Putting them close to where you’re coming and going from the house lets you appreciate that sense of change.”

The family moved into the home at the end of 2019, and within a few months their choice of renovation instead of new construction looked prescient. “When we left New York, it was so hard to leave,” says the husband. “We had friends from all over the world. Within a year, they had all left because of COVID.” While their quieter, slower life took some getting used to, the family came to appreciate it. The girls watched a family of foxes grow up in the yard and listened to owl calls at night. “It became a sanctuary for us,” says the husband. “Homeschooling during COVID in this setting was a wonderful experience,” recalls the wife. “We would frontload the instructional time, and then in the afternoons, we would do art projects and spend time outside. It really felt like our home. We still love the energy of the city, but this is absolutely where we want to raise our children.”