On a 7-acre plot of land in Anderson Township, the red of a barn isn't original, but it's iconic.
Rocks riddled with fossils and peonies planted beneath a stand of trees have roots in another time, and other back yards. And while the exposed cinder blocks and gambrel roof connect this home to its history, they also conceal a contemporary custom creation. Here on this former horse farm, Jerry and Karen Whitney built their own breed of bucolic serenity, balancing natural and manmade, nostalgic and modern.
"The beauty of the land was like a siren's song and we could not get it out of our heads," Karen says.
The Whitneys weren't looking to find their "forever" home when they happened upon the property. Despite the rows of aging stalls and dilapidated barn doors, the 30-year-old structure was solidly built, with a 12-inch-thick foundation, and offered the perfect footprint to create a little piece of pastoral heaven within suburban limits. While just 15 minutes from Downtown Cincinnati, the barn's placement—in the middle of the acreage and on a creek abutting the Withrow Nature Preserve—provided reassurance that development wouldn't encroach on their dream.
"We have our own little meadow for forever," Karen says of an expansive field beside the house.
To maximize views of the riparian landscape and dramatic bluffs, the couple worked with architect Mark McConnell to dormer the back of the structure and add expansive windows on all sides.
To restore the fields surrounding the barn—which were dug up during the installation of sewer and water lines, a well and pipes for the home's geothermal heating and cooling system—the Whitneys planted grass seed but plan to mow infrequently and avoid fertilizer and pesticides.
For the Whitneys, the property's idyllic allure never faded, even when they lived in a camper for 18 months during the renovation, with no water. Karen looks back fondly on bathing in the creek, and Jerry jokes that it wasn't so bad: he had a "walk-in closet," in the 30-foot shipping container that stored their furniture and clothes.
Now that they've been in the home for about eight months, they're discovering new reasons to see the property in a romantic light.
"We call the house 'Moon Shadow,' because the moon comes up and lights up the meadow, and casts a shadow of the trees into our bedroom," Jerry says.
To restore the fields surrounding the barn—which were dug up during the installation of sewer and water lines, a well and pipes for the home's geothermal heating and cooling system—the Whitneys planted grass seed but plan to mow infrequently and avoid fertilizer and pesticides.
For the Whitneys, the property's idyllic allure never faded, even when they lived in a camper for 18 months during the renovation, with no water. Karen looks back fondly on bathing in the creek, and Jerry jokes that it wasn't so bad: he had a "walk-in closet," in the 30-foot shipping container that stored their furniture and clothes.
Now that they've been in the home for about eight months, they're discovering new reasons to see the property in a romantic light.
"We call the house 'Moon Shadow,' because the moon comes up and lights up the meadow, and casts a shadow of the trees into our bedroom," Jerry says.
