And how to plant your own modern-day victory garden in Zone 7a

The price of eggs.  The cost of lettuce. The quiet recalculating at the checkout line.

Food has become a conversation again.

Not just in the way we talk about recipes or restaurants, but in the way we talk about systems—supply chains, unpredictable weather, transportation costs. Even those of us who once rarely considered how strawberries made it from field to fridge are more aware of the fragility behind the abundance.

In moments like this, planting a seed can feel quietly radical.

We are not going to outgrow the global food system in our backyards. But growing even a little food reconnects us to participation instead of passivity. It is, in many ways, a modern-day victory garden—not born of wartime rationing, but of awareness, resilience, and intention.

And here in Zone 7a, where our growing season stretches generously from April through October, even a modest effort can yield surprising abundance.

A Garden That Fits Your Real Life

A modern victory garden does not require a sprawling yard. It might be a single raised bed, a row along a fence, or a cluster of containers gathered on a sunny patio.

Start by asking a practical question: What do we actually eat?

If your family goes through bags of salad greens each week, lettuce is a natural choice. If pasta night requires fresh basil, grow basil. If your children snack on cherry tomatoes straight from the carton, plant a compact tomato variety in a five-gallon bucket.

Zone 7a is particularly forgiving.

Once the threat of frost passes—usually by mid- to late April—warm-season crops thrive. Tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, zucchini, and green beans all perform beautifully in our long summers. In early spring and again in late summer, cooler crops like lettuce, spinach, kale, Swiss chard, and radishes step in.

What many gardeners don’t realize is that we essentially get two growing seasons here: a spring run and a fall encore. If something falters in May, there is often another opportunity in August.

If You Only Have a Patio

Let’s remove one of the most common perceived barriers: you do not need land.

A patio that receives six to eight hours of sunlight can support two tomato plants in large containers, a pepper plant, a trough of lettuce, and a pot of basil. Strawberries trail beautifully over the edges of planters. Herbs thrive in contained spaces.

The most important decisions happen before you even plant. Use quality potting soil rather than scooping from the yard. Make sure containers have drainage holes. Accept that containers will require more consistent watering, especially in July’s heat. Feed them lightly once a month.

That small cluster of pots will not feed your household year-round. But it will noticeably supplement your summer meals, trim your grocery runs, and deepen your understanding of seasonality.

If You Have Space for a Raised Bed

A single 4-by-8-foot raised bed can be surprisingly productive when planted thoughtfully.

Rather than traditional long rows, think in terms of efficiency. Two well-staked tomato plants along the back edge.
A few peppers nearby. Lettuce tucked into corners. Basil planted between tomatoes, where it appreciates the warmth. A simple trellis allows cucumbers or beans to grow upward rather than sprawling outward.

Vertical growth changes everything in a small space.

Raised beds also offer control—better soil, clearer boundaries, easier weeding. And they need not be elaborate. A simple framed structure set over cardboard to suppress grass works beautifully. It does not need to be permanent to be meaningful.

Teaching Children Where Food Comes From

If you have children, invite them in early.

Let them choose a plant at the nursery, hand them a small trowel, and give them ownership over watering. Celebrate the first harvest together—even if it’s just a handful of cherry tomatoes.

There is something transformative about watching a child pull a carrot from the soil and realize vegetables begin in dirt. Gardening teaches patience in a world of immediacy. Seeds do not sprout because we want them to. Peppers do not ripen faster because we are hungry.

Plants operate on their own rhythm and that rhythm shapes gratitude, stewardship, and even shapes how children think about waste when they understand the effort behind what lands on their plates.

The Mental Health Case for Soil

There is research supporting what many gardeners intuitively know: tending soil steadies us.

The repetitive acts of planting, watering, and weeding regulate the nervous system. Time outside reduces stress. Watching something grow over weeks builds a quiet sense of progress that our fast-paced lives rarely provide.

But beyond research, there is something deeply grounding about the physicality of it.

You cannot rush germination. You cannot scroll while pruning. Gardening demands presence.

Morning watering becomes a ritual. Evening harvesting becomes a reflection. The work unfolds slowly, almost imperceptibly—and that slowness feels corrective in a culture built on urgency.

Start Smaller Than You Think

The biggest mistake new gardeners make is overplanting. A modern victory garden is not about ambition, but about sustainability.

If you are unsure where to begin, start with just three things:

• Two tomato plants
• One herb you use weekly
• A small patch or container of lettuce

Learn your sunlight patterns. Notice how quickly containers dry in midsummer. Observe what thrives and what struggles. Adjust next year.

Even a Little Still Matters

Growing food will not untangle global supply chains. It will not eliminate rising prices. But it will change your relationship to what’s on your plate.

A tomato picked warm from the vine carries context. You remember the tiny yellow blossom. The weeks of waiting. The afternoon you worried you had forgotten to water.

And in a season when so much feels abstract and overwhelming, there is deep comfort in something tangible: You planted it. You tended it. You watched it grow.

Whether it’s a backyard bed or a single pot on a patio, even a little still matters.  

Small Upgrades That Change How You Cook

Because when your kitchen works, everything else feels a little more manageable.

There’s a moment most of us know well: it’s 5:42 p.m., something is simmering on the stove, a child is asking for a snack, and you’re opening the same cabinet for the third time trying to remember where you put the olive oil.

It’s not that your kitchen isn’t beautiful. It might be. But beauty alone doesn’t carry you through the rhythms of a busy week.

A kitchen that works—really works—is one that quietly supports you. It anticipates your habits, reduces friction, and makes everyday cooking feel just a little more doable. And often, getting there doesn’t require a full renovation. It’s the small, thoughtful upgrades that change everything.

Start With How You Actually Use It

Before buying a single organizer or rearranging a drawer, step back and watch your own patterns.

Where do you naturally chop vegetables? Where do groceries land when you walk in the door? Which drawer do you open without thinking?

The most functional kitchens are designed around behavior, not aspiration.

If you prep meals at the island but store your knives across the room, that’s friction. If your spices live in a cabinet you can’t see into, that’s friction. These small inefficiencies add up—especially when you’re cooking under pressure.

Instead of asking, What would look best here? try asking, What would make this easier at 6 p.m.?

Create Zones That Make Sense

Professional kitchens run on zones—and home kitchens benefit from the same logic.

Think in terms of three core areas: prep, cook, and clean.

Your prep zone might include cutting boards, knives, mixing bowls, and frequently used ingredients like oils and salt. Ideally, everything you need to chop, mix, and assemble lives within arm’s reach.

Your cooking zone centers around the stove or cooktop—where utensils, pots, and spices should be easily accessible.

And your cleaning zone, anchored by the sink and dishwasher, should streamline the end of the process: dish soap within reach, a clear landing area for dirty dishes, and storage nearby for clean ones.

The goal isn’t perfection, it’s proximity. When tools live where you use them, you move less—and cooking feels smoother.

Rethink Your Storage and Visibility

One of the biggest culprits of kitchen frustration is hidden clutter.

Deep cabinets, stacked shelves, and overfilled drawers make it difficult to see what you have—leading to duplicate purchases, forgotten ingredients, and unnecessary stress.

A few simple swaps can dramatically improve visibility:
• Replace deep shelves with pull-out drawers where possible
• Use clear containers for pantry staples like flour, rice, and pasta
• Add risers or tiered organizers so items don’t get lost in the back
• Store lids vertically instead of stacking them

The principle is simple: if you can see it, you’ll use it.

And when everything has a clear home, cleanup becomes faster, too.

Upgrade the “In-Between” Spaces

Not every improvement has to be a major overhaul. Some of the most impactful changes happen in the overlooked spaces.

Consider the area between your counter and upper cabinets. A slim rail system for hanging utensils or small baskets can free up drawer space and keep essentials within reach.

Inside cabinets, adhesive hooks can hold measuring spoons or oven mitts. A small bin near your prep area can corral garlic, onions, or frequently used items that otherwise float around the counter.

Even your trash and recycling setup matters more than you think. If it’s inconvenient, you’ll feel it multiple times a day.

These micro-adjustments don’t draw attention—but they quietly improve how your kitchen functions.

Make Room for Real Life

A working kitchen isn’t just about cooking. It’s about everything that happens around it.

It’s where backpacks land after school. Where mail gets sorted. Where toddlers pull up a chair to “help.”

Designing for real life means carving out space for these moments instead of constantly fighting them.

A dedicated drawer for lunchboxes and water bottles can simplify mornings. A small basket for mail keeps paper clutter contained. A low, accessible shelf with snacks can give children a sense of independence (and reduce interruptions while you cook).

When your kitchen supports your family’s rhythms—not just your recipes—it becomes a place that works on every level.

Simplify Your Tools

More tools don’t necessarily mean better cooking. In fact, too many gadgets can slow you down—especially if they’re hard to access or rarely used.

Take stock of what you reach for most often. A sharp chef’s knife, a reliable cutting board, a few well-sized pans—these are the workhorses of everyday cooking.

Everything else should earn its place.

Streamlining your tools not only frees up space but also makes your kitchen feel calmer. And in a space you use multiple times a day, that sense of ease matters.

Light, Flow, and the Feel of It All

Function isn’t only about organization—it’s also about how your kitchen feels.

Good lighting, for example, can transform your experience. Under-cabinet lighting brightens prep areas, while warmer overhead lighting can make evenings feel more relaxed.

Clear pathways matter, too. If multiple people are moving through the space, even small adjustments—like shifting a trash can or rethinking a stool placement—can improve flow.

When your kitchen feels open, intuitive, and easy to navigate, you’re more likely to use it—and enjoy it.

Progress Over Perfection

The idea of a “perfect” kitchen can be paralyzing. But a working kitchen isn’t built all at once. It evolves.

Start small. Move your most-used items closer to where you need them. Add one drawer organizer. Clear one counter.

Pay attention to what improves your day—and build from there. The goal isn’t a showroom. The goal is to establish a space that supports you, meal after meal, moment after moment.

And when your kitchen works, everything else—from weeknight dinners to weekend baking—feels just a little bit easier.

Small Upgrades You Can Do This Weekend

1. Create a “Daily Use” Drawer

Designate one drawer for your most-used tools—think spatula, tongs, peeler, and measuring spoons. No more digging.

2. Corral Your Oils and Spices

Use a small tray near your stove or prep area to keep your go-to oils, salt, and spices together.

3. Add Under-Cabinet Lighting

Battery-operated options are inexpensive and make a noticeable difference in visibility.

4. Install a Pull-Out Trash Bin (or Improve Access)

If a full install isn’t feasible, simply reposition your bin closer to your prep space.

5. Use Clear Pantry Containers

Seeing exactly how much you have reduces waste and last-minute grocery runs.

6. Hang What You Can

Hooks or rails can free up drawer space and keep essentials within reach.

7. Give Everything a Home

Even small items—like lunch clips or snack bars—benefit from a designated spot.

8. Reset One Zone at a Time

Start with your prep area. Clear it, organize it, and notice how it changes your routine.

A kitchen that works isn’t about having more—it’s about having what you need, exactly where you need it. And sometimes, the smallest shifts make the biggest difference.  

Birds You’ll See This Spring

s winter loosens its grip and daylight stretches a little longer each evening, Central Virginia’s soundscape begins to change. The hush of cold months gives way to birdsong—clear whistles, chatter from the hedgerow, and rhythmic tapping from nearby trees. March and April are prime months for spotting familiar feathered neighbors as they establish territories, build nests, and feed hungry mates and hatchlings.

Whether you’re watching from a kitchen window, strolling a neighborhood trail, or working in the yard, these are the spring regulars you’re most likely to see—and hear—this time of year. Here’s how to recognize them, where they tend to gather, and what brings them back season after season.

Eastern Bluebird (photo above)

Habitat: Open yards, fence lines, meadows
Behavior: Nesting, insect hunting, gentle warbling
What attracts them: Nest boxes, open grassy areas, mealworms

Few birds signal spring quite like the Eastern bluebird. Males arrive early, often in late winter, flashing their brilliant blue backs as they perch on fence posts or low branches. Bluebirds favor open spaces where they can swoop down to catch insects emerging from warming soil.

By March, pairs begin nesting—often in cavities or birdhouses placed at the edge of lawns or fields.

Unlike many backyard birds, bluebirds aren’t frequent feeder visitors, but a well-placed nest box and a supply of mealworms can make your yard irresistible.

American Robin

Habitat: Lawns, parks, wooded edges
Behavior: Ground foraging, dawn singing
What attracts them: Soft soil, fruiting trees, open lawns

Robins are often among the first birds people notice in spring, thanks to their bold orange chests and early-morning songs. They’re most active on the ground, cocking their heads as they listen for earthworms beneath the soil.

In March and April, robins are busy feeding and scouting nesting sites in trees and shrubs. While they’ll visit feeders occasionally, they’re more interested in berry-producing plants like holly and serviceberry—and freshly turned garden beds where worms are easy pickings.

Northern Cardinal

Habitat: Shrubs, gardens, wooded neighborhoods
Behavior: Singing, pair bonding, territorial displays
What attracts them: Dense shrubs, sunflower seeds

Year-round residents, cardinals become especially noticeable in early spring. Males sing persistently from treetops, announcing territory and courting mates. Their bright red plumage stands out against still-bare branches, making them easy to spot.

Cardinals prefer thick vegetation for nesting and cover, so layered landscaping with shrubs and small trees is ideal. They’re also reliable feeder birds, favoring sunflower seeds scattered on a platform or tray feeder.

Carolina Chickadee

Habitat: Wooded areas, mature yards
Behavior: Constant movement, cavity nesting
What attracts them: Trees, suet, sunflower seeds

Small but endlessly energetic, Carolina chickadees flit through branches in tight-knit pairs, calling their distinctive “chick-a-dee-dee-dee.” In early spring, they begin inspecting cavities—both natural holes and nest boxes—for nesting.

Chickadees are among the friendliest backyard birds, often returning repeatedly to feeders stocked with sunflower seeds or suet. Leaving dead trees or snags (when safe) can also provide valuable nesting sites.

Red-winged Blackbird

Habitat: Creeks, wetlands, ponds, open fields
Behavior: Territorial singing, flocking
What attracts them: Wetland vegetation, open water edges

If you live near water, you’ll likely hear red-winged blackbirds before you see them. Males perch atop cattails or fence posts, flashing their red-and-yellow shoulder patches while delivering a distinctive, buzzy call.

These birds are among the first migrants to return in late winter and early spring. They favor marshy areas and field edges, especially near creeks and retention ponds. While they may visit feeders occasionally, natural wetland habitat is their biggest draw.

Woodpeckers: Downy & Red-bellied

Habitat: Wooded yards, tree-lined neighborhoods
Behavior: Drumming, insect foraging, cavity nesting
What attracts them: Mature trees, suet feeders, dead wood

Woodpeckers bring a different rhythm to spring—literally. Their drumming echoes through neighborhoods as they establish territories and communicate with potential mates.

The downy woodpecker, the smallest in North America, is a frequent backyard visitor, often spotted clinging to tree trunks or suet feeders. The larger red-bellied woodpecker is equally common, known for its rolling call and bold presence.

Both species benefit from mature trees and standing dead wood, which harbor insects and provide nesting opportunities. Suet feeders placed near tree trunks are a reliable way to draw them closer.

Creating a Spring-Friendly Yard

You don’t need acres of land to enjoy spring birdlife. Simple choices—planting native shrubs, leaving seed heads through winter, offering fresh water, and avoiding pesticides—can transform even a modest yard into a seasonal haven.

March and April are a time of renewal, not just for plants but for the birds that depend on them. As you step outside this spring, pause and listen. Chances are, one of these familiar voices is already welcoming the season back.

Why Outdoor Living Still Matters

There’s a particular kind of quiet that happens on a porch in the early morning. The house is awake enough to hum—coffee brewing, a door creaking open—but the day hasn’t fully arrived yet. You sit for a minute longer than you planned. You breathe. You watch light move across the yard. Nothing is urgent, and that’s the point.

Long before outdoor living became a category of furniture or a Pinterest board, porches, patios, and backyards were simply where life spilled out.

They were places to pause and places to gather, rooms without walls that asked very little of us beyond presence. In a world increasingly defined by speed
and screens, these spaces still matter—not because they’re trendy, but because they quietly hold together the rhythms of daily life.

A Room That Belongs to Everyone

The front porch, especially, has always been a kind of social contract. It’s private, but not too private. Public-facing, but gentle. A place where neighbors wave, conversations begin without ceremony, and time stretches just enough to allow connection.

Historically, porches were designed for exactly this purpose. They cooled homes before air conditioning, yes—but they also cooled people. Rocking chairs encouraged lingering. Railings framed views of the street. Steps became seats for kids waiting on friends or adults swapping stories at dusk. Even now, a porch light left on in the evening still sends a quiet signal: you’re welcome here.

Patios and backyards carry that same spirit, just turned inward. Where the porch invites the neighborhood, the backyard gathers the household.

It’s where kids invent entire worlds with sticks and chalk, where dogs find their favorite patch of sun, where dinners stretch later than expected because the air feels kind.

The Rituals That Root Us

Outdoor living spaces endure because they become containers for ritual. Not the grand, ceremonial kind—but the everyday ones that anchor us.

Morning coffee tastes different outside. It’s slower, less transactional. You notice birdsong, the weather, the way your body wakes up when it’s not immediately pulled toward a screen. In the evening, a porch or patio becomes a soft landing place—a transition between the busyness of the day and the quiet of night. Conversations meander. Kids play until the light fades. You sit without agenda.

These rituals matter because they repeat. They mark time. They give shape to days that might otherwise blur together. In seasons of change—new jobs, new babies, new phases of life—these small, consistent moments offer a sense of continuity.

Rest That Isn’t Performative

So much of modern rest has become curated: wellness routines, productivity breaks, optimized self-care. Outdoor spaces offer something simpler. They allow rest without instruction.

You don’t have to do anything on a porch. You can scroll, sure—but you’re just as likely to put the phone down.

You can read half a page and stare off into the distance. You can sit with someone and talk about nothing in particular. This kind of rest isn’t about improvement; it’s about allowance.

There’s also something grounding about being partially exposed to the elements—feeling the breeze, adjusting to temperature, watching clouds roll in.

It reminds us that we’re part of something larger than our schedules and to-do lists. That awareness, subtle as it is, can be deeply calming.

Spaces That Grow With a Family

Outdoor living spaces evolve alongside the people who use them. A porch that once hosted late-night conversations might later hold a swing for a sleeping baby. A backyard that started as a blank slate becomes a patchwork of memories: the tree that held a tire swing, the corner where a garden finally took, the patio where birthdays were celebrated year after year.

For children especially, these spaces are formative. Outdoor play encourages creativity, independence, and a sense of belonging to a place. It’s where scraped knees happen—and where resilience quietly takes root. Long after toys are outgrown, the feeling of those spaces often remains.

Why It Still Matters

At its core, the front porch effect isn’t about architecture or square footage. It’s about permission. Permission to slow down. To be seen without being on display. To connect without scheduling. To rest without justification.

As communities grow more dispersed and lives become more digitally mediated, these spaces offer something increasingly rare: unstructured togetherness. They don’t demand productivity or performance. They simply hold space—for conversation, for quiet, for the ordinary moments that, over time, add up to a life.

You don’t need a sprawling wraparound porch or a magazine-worthy patio to experience it. A small stoop, a folding chair, a string of lights—sometimes that’s enough. What matters most is the intention to step outside, to linger, to let life happen just beyond the threshold of your door.

Because sometimes, the most meaningful moments aren’t planned at all. They’re the ones that happen when you sit down for a minute—and decide to stay.

How to strike the balance between styled layers and lived-in comfort—without tipping into chaos here’s a fine line between a home that feels thoughtfully layered and one that feels…busy.

We’ve all walked into both. One feels collected over time, rich with story and texture. The other feels like every surface was filled simply because it could be. The difference isn’t necessarily how much is in the room—it’s how intentionally it’s arranged.

If you love books stacked on side tables, ceramics collected from travels, framed photos, woven baskets, vintage finds, and a healthy mix of new and old, but you worry about crossing into clutter, this guide is for you.

Here’s how to create a home that feels curated, not crowded.

Start with Breathing Room

Before adding anything, step back.

Every well-styled space begins with negative space—the empty areas that allow your eye to rest. Think of it as visual oxygen. Without it, even beautiful objects begin to compete.

As a general rule: not every wall needs art, not every shelf needs to be filled, and not every tabletop needs décor. If you’re styling built-ins, leave a few shelves partially empty. If you’re working with a gallery wall, allow for consistent spacing between frames.

Editing is often more powerful than adding.

Create Visual Anchors

Clutter often happens when a room lacks a focal point. When everything is competing for attention, nothing stands out.

Choose one or two anchor elements per room:
• A statement light fixture
• A large piece of art
• A bold rug
• A beautifully styled mantel
• A sculptural chair

Once your anchor is established, let the surrounding décor support it rather than rival it. Smaller objects should feel like supporting characters, not co-stars.

Think in Layers, Not Piles

Layering creates depth; piling creates chaos.

The difference? Intention and variation.

Instead of lining up objects of similar height and size, vary scale and shape.

Pair something tall with something low. Combine smooth ceramics with woven textures. Place art behind a lamp or slightly overlap framed pieces on a shelf.
A simple formula to try on coffee tables
or consoles:
1. Something vertical (a vase, candlestick,
or lamp)
2. Something organic (greenery, a bowl of fruit, a branch)
3. Something personal (a book, photo, or collected object)

Three elements often feel balanced without feeling busy.

Corral the Small Stuff

Small objects are usually what push a room from curated to cluttered.

The fix? Containment.

Use trays, bowls, baskets, or decorative boxes to group smaller items. Instead of five separate candles scattered across a surface, place two or three on a tray. Instead of loose mail on the counter, use a woven basket. Instead of remotes floating on a coffee table, use a lidded box.

When small items are visually grouped, they read as a single design moment rather than visual noise.

Stick to a Cohesive Color Story

Even eclectic homes benefit from a defined palette.

This doesn’t mean everything must match. But choosing a general color direction—warm neutrals, moody jewel tones, soft coastal hues—helps diverse pieces feel connected.

If you’re unsure, look at what you already own. What colors repeat? What tones do you naturally gravitate toward?

Then, when adding something new, ask: Does this complement what’s already here?

When color feels cohesive, layering feels intentional.

Mix Eras—But With Restraint

A home filled entirely with brand-new pieces can feel flat. A home filled entirely with vintage can feel heavy. The magic is in the mix.

Pair an antique wooden chest with a modern lamp. Style heirloom china inside streamlined cabinetry. Hang contemporary art above a traditional console.

The key is balance. If everything is ornate, it becomes overwhelming. If everything is minimal, it lacks warmth. Let contrasting elements enhance one another.

Leave Room for Function

Sometimes what feels like clutter is simply poor function.

Decor should never interfere with daily life. If you’re constantly moving objects to use a surface, that surface is over-styled.

Coffee tables should still hold coffee. Nightstands should still hold a book and a glass of water. Kitchen counters should allow space for meal prep.
When décor supports the way you live—rather than complicates it—your home feels calmer instantly.

Rotate, Don’t Accumulate

You don’t have to display everything at once.

One of the simplest tricks professional stylists use is rotation. Store seasonal pieces or extra décor in labeled bins and swap them throughout the year.
Shelves feel refreshed, and you avoid the slow build-up of excess.

This also allows sentimental objects to shine when they’re displayed—rather than disappearing into visual overload.

Make It Personal (But Edit Thoughtfully)

A curated home tells a story.

Photographs, children’s art, travel souvenirs, inherited pieces—these are the elements that make a house yours. The goal isn’t to remove personality in the name of minimalism. It’s to showcase it well.

Choose your favorite pieces. Frame the art instead of taping it to the fridge.

Give that inherited bowl a place of honor rather than tucking it behind other items. Display collections together instead of scattering them throughout the house.

When personal items are presented intentionally, they feel meaningful—not messy.

Do the “Squint Test”

When you feel unsure, try this: stand in the doorway and squint.

What do you notice first? Does your eye know where to land? Or does it bounce around the room?

If everything feels loud, remove one or two things and reassess. Often, subtracting just 10 percent of a room’s décor dramatically shifts how it feels.

Remember: Curated Doesn’t Mean Perfect

The most beautiful homes aren’t museum displays. They feel lived in.

Books are dog-eared. Throws are slightly rumpled. A stack of mail sits on the desk—contained, but present.

Striking the balance between styled and sincere takes practice. It requires stepping back, editing bravely, and choosing pieces that truly resonate rather than simply fill space.

A curated home isn’t about having less. It’s about choosing well.

And when each object has room to breathe, your home doesn’t just look better—it feels better.

In her 1924 Colonial Revival, Mia Mangold has created a space shaped by history, humor, and intention

By: Megan Williams | Photos By: Andria Fontenot

Life changes exponentially when you stop performing and stop caring who’s watching,” Mia Mangold said, standing in the dining room of her 1924 Colonial Revival home—a space layered with collected furniture, hand-upholstered pillows, and just enough evidence of daily life to make it clear no one here is trying to impress anyone.

Mangold laughed, almost as if to soften the weight of the statement. “It took me a long time to actually mean that,” she added.

It’s not a catchphrase she uses lightly. It’s an earned mantra—one shaped over decades of movement, reinvention, and saying yes to experiences that most people only daydream about, then learning when to stop performing altogether.

Mangold bought her Lynchburg home in 2019 after renovating a string of historic houses across the Hill City. The story of those homes—and the life she built around them—is literally displayed on the walls.

Decorative plates from Oxide Pottery line her living room built-ins, each illustrating a house she has owned, loved, and renovated in Lynchburg. She gestures toward them as if they’re old friends rather than milestones (though, to the outsider looking in, they are both).

“I’ve owned seven houses in Lynchburg, plus one in St. Pete [Florida], one in Austin [Texas], and one in New Jersey—so 10 total,” she said. “My first house in New Jersey was built around 1865, and it’s where Walt Whitman used to stay in the summer. There was a natural spring—I picture him sitting down there writing poetry.

It sounds cheesy, but as a kid I was an old soul, weird kid. New Jersey has so many old Victorians.”

To hear her describe her journey—from “old soul, weird kid” who grew up on the New Jersey–Philadelphia line to home renovator in Lynchburg—is to realize that Mangold’s life has never followed a straight line.

It’s shaped by an innate curiosity, a desire to see the world, and a penchant for never saying no to a good time.

“I basically grew up in Philadelphia,” she said. “I lived 15 minutes away in New Jersey, near the Ben Franklin Bridge. Then I left for a while—lived in a car with my friends and went cross-country, ended up in San Francisco. I came back when I was 21 because my grandma got really sick. We thought she was going to pass, but she lived four more years and couldn’t be alone. I spent days with her; my mom slept there at night. I worked while getting my photography degree—I was a photo lab tech—and I worked at the Camden County Library in periodicals. I even worked at Staples, which was fun.”

By 24, Mangold had saved up enough money to buy her first home. It was then, staring down the beams of a 19th century Victorian, that her gumption grew even more.

“I didn’t have YouTube tutorials. I had old home and garden handyman books that taught me how to change a faucet or fix something,” she remembered, nodding to the corner bookshelf where her handyman books still reside. “My uncle worked at a lumber yard—he helped me with trim and molding.”

At the same time that she was teaching herself how to renovate her New Jersey home, she was also working at the historic Trocadero Theatre in Philadelphia’s Chinatown, where she worked until she turned 30. While she loved working as a concert promotor and then later a booking agent, the early load-ins and late-night shows eventually became too much. The housing market in New Jersey was booming and Mangold took a chance and sold her house.

“The housing market got high—when balloon loans were everywhere and rates were low—and I sold my house for three times what I paid,” she said. “Then I flew to Spain and didn’t come back for two years. I lived in Turkey, spent a lot of time in Greece, went to Australia, Asia… India for a while because it was affordable and I could stay longer. I was saving money because I knew I’d have to come back eventually and I wanted to buy another house.”

And she did.

After flying to Austin, Texas, for a wedding, Mangold planted roots once again—working at the legendary Red 7 venue, popular for hosting rock, punk, and metal shows. She also purchased a condo, which she sold a few years later for enough money to buy her first 5,000-square-foot home in Rivermont—with enough money left over for renovations.

“I saw a house online—I think it was on Madison—and I was like, ‘Where is this place?’ I thought: Is this magical fairyland? I could buy two old houses for what I could sell my one house for. So I made a list of 10 houses, found a local realtor, and she showed me all of them. I chose the Rivermont house—the big white house—it had an apartment in the back and had been a rooming house. It was fun to renovate. I was still tiptoeing into color because I was accommodating guests. I rented downstairs as an Airbnb. I didn’t want an all-white Airbnb with the same horse picture everyone has. I wanted it to feel interesting—bright, funky—something you don’t live in every day.”

From there flowed a series of home purchases and renovations—some of which she held onto for a time as short-term rentals, and others she lived in or sold. All the while, Mangold was rolling up her sleeves, doing the work herself, and evolving her style even further.

“On Arlington [Street], I was taking out a vanity and the plumbing was corroded—it broke off and sprayed everywhere. I’m soaked, running into the basement, crawl space… water pouring everywhere—hardwood floors exposed,” she remembered, noting that the journey has been far from picture perfect, and that’s exactly how she’d prefer it. “Or when I moved here [to this house] the plumbing started leaking so I had to go in and fix it, patch the wall, put up a new ceiling… a week later, water’s dripping out of the vent. That stuff happens.”

Mangold doesn’t shy away from the uncomfortable. Rather, those messy moments are what make her story all the more interesting and all the more relatable. A small woman in stature, her lived experiences have made her a force of will and determination.

And it’s an interesting juxtaposition—the know-how to fix plumbing and patch the wall alongside of the person who can effortlessly style a room all while wearing vintage Doc Martens that have been meticulously preserved since the ‘80s.

Mangold’s life has never followed a straight line, and she has no interest in pretending it should have. The houses, the travel, the work—even the setbacks—have all been part of the same ongoing experiment: figuring out what feels honest, useful, and worth keeping.

In her Lynchburg home, there’s no performance—only layers of intention, curiosity, and care. It’s a place where old windows are left intact, mistakes are patched and repatched, and nothing is precious unless it’s personal.

For Mangold, that’s the point. Not perfection, not polish, just a life and a home that reflects exactly who she is, right now.

By: Ashleigh Meyer / Photos Courtesy: Poplar Forest

When we think about archaeology, most of us probably have a similar image come to mind: Sand swept deserts, long-buried pottery, delicate bones. At Thomas Jefferson’s Poplar Forest, archaeology is paramount to the preservation and restoration efforts of the property, but it often takes on an unexpected appearance.

Dr. Eric Proebsting has been a key part of the archaeological efforts at Poplar Forest since 2008. Much of his attention has focused on reconstructing Jefferson’s original landscape. Proebsting and a team of six other archaeologists slowly uncover layers of earth looking for evidence that they have reached the Jefferson-era. But they rarely uncover large artifacts. Instead, subtle clues in the soil tell them when they have hit their mark. Changes in soil color and density reveal long hidden planting sites. Plate fragments and other sundries once tossed out a kitchen window to the compost help to date the dig location.

Even the Jefferson layer itself reveals that the president tinkered with his design plan, making changes as the Virginia climate rejected his original vision or he didn’t like the way something looked.

In true Jeffersonian fashion, science and technology play a key role in rediscovering the original landscape. Phytoliths are trace minerals left over in decaying plant material that reveal important information about grass types, specifically if a grass preferred shade or sun. Through the study of these phytoliths, Proebsting’s team has been able to identify where clumps of trees were once planted. Pollen testing can give us clues about environmental changes and planting sites, and in the case of Poplar Forest, trace amounts of mulberry pollen were discovered in the archaeological layer, pointing to the species that had been planted there which was echoed in Jefferson’s own notes.

The property, once around 5,000 acres in size, was meticulously designed by Jefferson to serve as both a productive agricultural plantation, and as a retreat where he could clear his mind, collect his thoughts and enjoy intellectual pursuits. He was influenced heavily by the large, grandiose English gardens that he witnessed during his travels with John Adams, as well as contemporary landscape design. A shift had occurred by the end of the 18th century as designers turned from the rigid, symmetrical layouts that were popular previously and started creating spaces that reflected a more natural landscape. Observers can see Jefferson balancing these two ideals in his own plans for Poplar Forest.

A ten-acre square around the octagonal Retreat House was reserved for ornamental plantings where Jefferson explored his interest in landscape design. While Jefferson was the visionary, it was enslaved labor that brought it to life. Even while Jefferson was away at Monticello, traveling abroad, or otherwise absent, work on Poplar Forest continued in accordance with his design. The cobblestone carriage circle at the front of the retreat house was hand-dug and laboriously laid with stone, as revealed by the original road surface which had been excavated as part of the archaeological work on the property. Thanks to generous support from the Garden Club of Virginia, the original Jefferson-era road is protected under a new cobbled surface and a viewing box allows visitors to see underground, into the original cobbles.

While there is not an overabundance of source material to draw from, Jefferson did keep some notes on his landscape plans for Poplar Forest. We know that oval-shaped beds were placed on both sides of the north lawn of the retreat house, as well as directly in front of the home. During Proebsting’s excavation of the front lawn, archaeologists were able to identify the outline of the oval beds, as well as the remnants of planting holes where roses were once grown. Drawing on the gardening books known to be in Jefferson’s library, as well as what was planted at Monticello and accessible to the Poplar Forest plantation, antique roses were replanted in the oval beds and have now grown to be about the size that Jefferson likely would have seen during his lifetime.

Considerable work has been done to restore the double row of paper mulberry trees on the west side of the house, which would have provided shade to the porch as well as visual intrigue. Among other things, the particular species speaks to Jefferson’s interest in studying plantlife across the globe and bringing it home to test in the Virginia soil.

The clumps of trees near the front of the home have also been a large part of the archaeological restoration and reveal an intriguing fact about the third president. In 1812, Jefferson ordered four clumps of trees to be planted at the corners of the house. Species included black locust, tulip poplar, redbud, dogwood, and calycanthus shrubs, among others. The intention was for it to appear very natural, in keeping with the modern design ideas of his time. However, also in the same month it is noted that Jefferson borrowed a surveyors chain from a neighbor; a 66-foot length of chain used for mapping purposes. Despite his plan to make the tree clumps appear very natural, the trees are spaced at a precise 33-foot distance from one end to the other. He never could completely shake his love for symmetry, mathematics, and geometry.

His interest in Palladian symmetry served to create one of the largest and most noticeable geographic features on the property which remain clearly visible today. Two large mounds flank the east and west sides of the house, creating a sort-of visual frame and uniting the ornamental grounds with the built architecture. The dirt to create the mounds was removed from the south side of the house, where a large sunken lawn also creates visual intrigue. Archaeological investigation has suggested that the lawn was planted with geometric rows of shrubs and ornamental trees, while the mounds were adorned with willow trees and aspen to create an almost Greco-Roman oasis.

The digging of the rear lawn was carried out by enslaved laborers, with an enslaved man named Phill Hubbard leading the project. Hubbard had been born at Poplar Forest and often travelled back and forth from Monticello to work on various projects at both estates. Jefferson had inherited 11 enslaved individuals along with the property in 1773, and the number grew to just below 100, with the population ebbing and flowing over the course of his lifetime. In addition to bringing Jefferson’s ornamental vision to life, these enslaved individuals also labored in the agricultural fields. A project on the horizon for 2026 is the excavation of one of the quarters where enslaved people lived on the property, including their subsistence gardens, fence lines, and other archaeological data.

Restoring the landscape to its original grandeur is interesting and inspiring, and reveals a lot about Jefferson’s thought process and mind. However, Dr. Proebsting and the whole team at Poplar Forest is driven by more than a desire to create a beautiful landscape.

“It’s about people,” he said. “About all the people who lived here at Poplar Forest.”

His ultimate vision is to draw connections between modern day visitors and the folks who lived, worked and died on the grounds. With little written record of their day-to-day lives, archaeology is the looking glass that allows us to peer into the past and set our eyes on the actual evidence that remains of their lives and legacies, even if it is sometimes as quiet as a whisper, or as delicate as a change in the color of the earth.

Inside Lynchburg Parks and Recreation’s Volunteer-Driven Program to Restore Native Ecosystems

By: Anna Eileen White / Photos Courtesy: Lynchburg Parks & Recreation

Honeysuckle’s sugary notes often signal its presence long before you can see it. But, despite its graceful appearance and aroma, its story is complex. Japanese honeysuckle and amur honeysuckle are both common in the Lynchburg area—too common, it turns out.

Neither species is native, and along with plants such as wineberry, autumn olive, bull thistle, and Japanese stiltgrass, they pose significant problems for native ecosystems. Considered invasive, they spread quickly, choking out native plants. The result: degraded soil health, altered wildlife habitats, and poor air and water quality.

Much like kudzu as it envelops hillsides and forests, the damage is not isolated or minimal, though it may be less visible if you’re unsure how to identify invasive species.

“You’re going to see them everywhere,” said Lynchburg Parks and Recreation Park Services Manager Howard Covey, explaining that invasive species are not a new problem in Lynchburg.

“It’s been an issue for a while. We’ve tried to address it as we were rebuilding, remodeling, or making park improvements, but obviously, resources and power are never going to be adequate through the city using just staff to control it.”

As the threat of invasive species grew over the years, so did efforts to combat the problem.

“We were bouncing around ideas on how we can get on top of this and we settled on building a sustainable volunteer corps, similar to the Master Gardeners, Master Naturalists, or Tree Stewards,” said Covey.

In 2024, ReviveLYH was born, and is now galvanizing volunteers dedicated to tackling the issue.

Led by Public Works operations coordinator Jerry Whitmore, ReviveLYH is part of Lynchburg’s Department of Public Works Sustainability and Environmental Initiatives. It operates in conjunction with Explore Nature by Nurture, an LLC founded by Danielle Racke who is passionate about helping educators facilitate outdoor learning.

Though they’re currently concentrating efforts at Ivy Creek Park, ReviveLYH hopes to expand across the city as they build a sustainable infrastructure and recruit more volunteers.

“There was an issue with invasive species there when the park was built,” Covey said of the Park. “We chose that spot to begin with because it’s one of the newer parks in the system. It’s also designated as the Nature Park, and we felt it would be a good place to start because there were a lot of different types of invasives in there, so it would be a good training spot in order to teach people how to map and how to identify what’s invasive compared to what’s native.”

With over 100 volunteers stepping up since the program’s launch and 300 hours spent on pilot projects and education, the progress is tangible. A 0.6-acre hillside located on the northwest side of Clemmons Lake at Ivy Creek Park has seen the bulk of volunteer efforts. Overgrown with invasive amur honeysuckle, autumn olive, and oriental bittersweet, native plants on the hillside needed room to breathe. In fall 2025, 76 volunteers spent 211 hours removing invasive species and restoring the habitat there.

“We have already seen some native vegetation springing up where we have cleared autumn olive this fall, which is very promising,” shared Lynchburg Parks & Recreation volunteer coordinator Jamey Love. “Eventually, our goal is to net 2080+ volunteer hours a year to tackle the work at Ivy Creek Park, as well as some of the other invasive species in other parks.”

Covey says invasive plant management is an ongoing process. “It’s one of those things that will never be completely finished,” he explained. “That’s why we recruit people who have it as a passion.”

With volunteers hailing from local colleges, businesses, nature organizations, and more, coordinating the effort is a multi-step process. Volunteers first undergo training on herbicide application, plant identification, and vegetation removal. After training, they can participate in field workdays, serve in administrative roles, and help with vegetation mapping. As vegetation is documented in a geographic mapping system, volunteer groups will eventually operate with more independence, accessing the maps through an app to guide and track their work. Finally, when a field workday rolls around, everyone gets their hands dirty uprooting invasive species and cultivating native species as plants or seeds.

“It doesn’t do any good to pull the invasives out unless we’re putting natives back in,” said Covey. “The invasives are notorious for spreading quickly and choking out a lot of the natives, and that’s why it’s really important to go back in there with those native plantings as soon as we can after getting rid of the invasives.”

Though hillsides, forests, and hedges across the city call for ReviveLYH’s attention, and new projects continue to sprout as they work, Covey is optimistic. “We’re making a lot of progress,” he shared. Enthusiasm is growing among outdoor-lovers who care about the environment or even want to learn about managing invasive species on their own property. “The responses have been overall positive,” Covey explained. “People are excited that we’re trying to put together this effort.”

As momentum spreads through word of mouth and social media, Jamey Love, Volunteer Coordinator for the Lynchburg Parks and Recreation, says they’re grateful for the support of past and present volunteers and welcome inquiries, “We are interested in working with all curious citizens,” she shared. “The more interest we receive, the more education we can offer, and the more we can do.”

RELATED CONTENT:

A Native Gardener’s Guide to Long-Term Success

Why Prioritizing Native Plant Habitats is So Important

One man’s journey to deconstruct and rebuild a 18th-century tavern

By: Megan Williams / Photos By: Ashlee Glen

Every small town has its ghosts. In Halifax, one of them was the Banister Town Tavern—an unstable and uninhabitable 18th-century inn whose walls once sheltered travelers, debates, and dreams of revolution. When the structure’s timbers began to fail, most assumed its story had ended. But local preservationist Christopher “Todd” Hunley saw something different: a chance to keep a piece of Virginia’s past standing, one beam at a time.

Those local to Lynchburg know Hunley as the face behind the counter at Buzzard’s Roost Antiques, the antique shop that he and his wife own and operate. But Hunley wears many proverbial hats—historian, antique collector and shop owner, Sheriff First Sergeant with the City of Lynchburg, and doting father to a six-year-old son.

Hunley has always wanted to live in a Federal-style period home. He has also always wanted to live on his property in Pittsylvania County.

“But my property doesn’t have a Federal period home on it,” Hunley laughed, “so my only solution was to bring an old house to my property.”

So that is exactly what Hunley is doing.

Hunley had been vocal about his interest in finding a Federal-period home to live in, renovate, or disassemble and move, so when friends caught wind of the fate of the Banister Town Tavern—also often referred to as Bell Tavern—in the Town of Halifax, they immediately called Hunley.

“The home had become extremely unstable,” he said. “If I hadn’t done this with the Town of Halifax, the tavern would have met the fate of the bulldozer.”

Hunley toured the Banister Town Tavern. He took in its weathered pine boards, its leaning timbers, its overgrown lots.

“It wasn’t a candidate for restoration,” Hunley said. “The sills were rotted through; the basement had been backfilled to avoid structural collapse.”

Hunley made an offer to the Town of Halifax, which included a detailed plan to disassemble the tavern and move the materials 48 miles away to his property. The Town of Halifax accepted, seeing Hunley’s proposal as a way to preserve the structure without losing its story.

“That little house still had life in it,” Hunley said. “It played a vital part during such an instrumental time in our country…and I couldn’t let it disappear.”

Much of the tavern’s history has been lost to time, but the house, as Hunley refers to it, was originally Banister Town Tavern, with Banister Town being the settlement in that area before Halifax was established. Originally constructed between 1760 and 1770, with an addition added in the early 1800s, it’s estimated that Banister Town Tavern was once a bustling establishment.

In the mid- to late-1700s, what is today Route 501 was a main stagecoach route for those venturing from New York to New Orleans, so it was common for taverns to be peppered throughout the route to meet the demands of the stagecoach travel. According to Hunley, horses could only travel a maximum of 30 miles per day, so many stops were essential along the way.

“Most people today think a tavern was just a bar,” Hunley explained. “But in the 18th century, a tavern was the heartbeat of a community.”

The Banister Town Tavern functioned as a lodging house, meeting place, and community hub. It would have been a place for respite, a meal, and a place for horses to be rested and watered.

“Local folklore claims that George Washington may have stopped there, but of course that is just legend—there is no physical proof that it happened, but it is certainly plausible,” he said.

When Hunley began disassembling the tavern, he found a letter written in 1823—mouse-eaten and in tatters—from a brother to his sister, who was living in the tavern. He also found a rosette in the same wall that would have been from a uniform from the War of 1812.

“I was really hoping to find artifacts left behind,” Hunley said. “Tons of stuff was in the walls from the 1980s, which was the last time the house was lived in. But I still haven’t gotten into the basement, so I’m hopeful to find artifacts from when the house was first built.”

For Hunley, the dismantling was an act of both preservation and patience.

The home had waited long enough.

Now it was time to save what was left.

Dismantling the tavern, to say the least, has not been easy. To date, Hunley has removed 70 tons of plaster, lath, and debris, all of which has been removed by hand in an effort to save as much of the original material as possible.

On estimate, Hunley has saved 70 percent of the main structure and 85 percent of the addition. The timbers that aren’t structurally sound enough to be reassembled as his home will be repurposed for out buildings, such as a traditional smokehouse.

“Rebuilding this tavern isn’t cheaper than building something new,” he said. “But the materials tell a story that you can’t replicate today.”

Hunley’s passion for history runs deep, fueled by a lifelong fascination with the tangible past and the belief that every artifact, no matter how weathered, has something to teach us. He’s meticulously documenting the entire process of the tavern’s dismantling and reconstruction, not only as a guide for the rebuild but as a record of its continued life.

“I’m preserving this for the same reason I collect antiques,” he said. “These things tell the story of who we are. If we don’t take the time to understand where we came from, we lose part of ourselves.”

The project has also become a kind of inheritance. Hunley often says that while the tavern may one day stand on his land, it doesn’t really belong to him—it belongs to the continuum of history, to the people who built it, and to those who will stand inside it long after he’s gone. Each board he saves, each joint he restores, keeps a connection alive between past and present.

For the Town of Halifax, the partnership represents a rare success story—proof that preservation doesn’t always mean leaving something in place. It can also mean giving it the chance to live again.

“The town has been incredible,” Hunley said.

“They didn’t want to see this piece of history lost, and neither did I.”

When the Banister Town Tavern rises once more—this time among the rolling fields of Pittsylvania County—it will stand as a testament to resilience, craftsmanship, and the enduring pull of stories worth saving.

More than two centuries after it first opened its doors, the Banister Town Tavern is traveling again—carried beam by beam, memory by memory, toward a new beginning. And like the generations who once passed through its halls, it’s bound not by where it stands, but by the history it keeps alive.

RELATED CONTENT:

Restoring Red Hill

Stewards of Ivy Cliff

This year’s Lynchburg Living Idea House is a blending of aesthetics and charm

By: Megan Williams | Photos By: Ashlee Glen

From the sloped driveway—towering oaks, poplars, and hickories parting just enough to make space for a car or maybe a trailer pulling a heap of kayaks—the white modern house looks quaint. As you creep down the drive, acorns popping under your tires, what may have appeared unassuming from the main thoroughfare changes view. The stucco-style exterior, clean lines, and floating concrete steps are your first indication that this isn’t your typical lakefront home.

“You don’t see many West Coast style homes like this on the lake,” said Scott Elliott, President and Head of Design Services at Custom Structures, the team behind the brand-new build at Smith Mountain Lake.

And, sure enough, the home has gleaned a considerable amount of its architectural style from our neighbors across the country. There is a deep connection to nature on the roughly one-acre lot. To the left of the back decks—of which there are three—is a resilient hickory, trimmed to a stump decades ago, which now rises again in triplicate, three identical trunks stretching toward the sky.

“We could have taken the tree out,” Meredith Elliott, Scott’s wife and owner of Southern Charm Interior Design, said. “But just look at how it shades the space. I can envision a tree house being added there one day.”

Mere footsteps away, water ebbs in a quiet cove. The water is over 20 feet deep, making the area ideal for a quiet retreat or families hoping to safely splash in the lake. Stepping out onto a back deck, you would never know that you’re less than one mile from Halesford Bridge and Bridgewater Marina. A hawk circles high overhead, birdsong rings from the dozens of trees peppering the property, and you’re greeted with crisp, resounding silence.

But it’s more than its nod to nature that gives this home its West Coast vibe. Linear lighting, open floor plans, expansive windows, flat roof, and wood and stone surfaces are all integral to the West Coast style and are all prominent here.

“I’ve always wanted to build a West Coast-style house,” Scott said, leaning against the black marble kitchen counter. “Since I was a little kid, I have been fascinated by them. But we didn’t have a ton of clients interested in them.”

So, when the land adjacent to one of the Elliott’s current rental properties came available for sale, the Elliotts snatched it up and began envisioning the home.

“I wanted a lot of sleek lines, not too much detail,” Scott recalled. “It’s one of those things where less is more.”

“Once Scott showed me the plans he had for the house, right away I knew the type of style I wanted the interior to have,” Meredith added. Despite having the vision instantly in mind, it took nearly two years to acquire each decor piece for the home—from sourcing a vintage wooden boat from Facebook Marketplace to repeat trips to Home Goods to curate the large collection of bird prints that are styled throughout the space.

Despite its small footprint, the home boasts a shocking amount of livable space.

“You wouldn’t believe this house sleeps 22,” Meredith said.

Just like the home’s architectural style borrows from West Coast and Scandinavian influences, its use of space is influenced by those styles as well. Four bedrooms, one bunkroom, three living rooms, three full baths, and one powder room are scattered throughout the three floors alongside three deck spaces—for lounging and soaking in the lake breeze or for an al fresco meal in the shelter of towering oaks.

When the Elliotts were dreaming up this space, they wanted an environment where families could come together under one roof and live, sleep, and dine comfortably.

“We just had this vision of three or four families coming together for the holidays or a summer vacation and having everything they need, right here, without renting out a huge mansion,” Meredith continued.

The Elliotts plan to rent the home out to short term renters and even envision renting the space out to private chefs hoping to host an intimate dinner party.

The space is made for entertaining with a top-of-the-line ZLINE range, black marble countertops, and a large dining room table and equally expansive bar that looks out at the tree-studded woods.

And just as the Elliotts envision a home where families and friends can come together, they have created a space that will tell those stories over time. In the kitchen, a sweeping copper backsplash runs from counter to ceiling, gathering patina with age.

“We treated the copper backsplash to jumpstart the patina process,” Scott explained. “But it will continue to change and evolve over time.”

What makes this home so special are those intricate details—no proverbial stone left unturned to ensure the space is cozy yet memorable. Even the cooling system has character. Nine mini-splits are hidden throughout the rooms, covered by linen art so the untrained eye would never notice them—but they’d feel their presence.

“Mini-splits are incredibly energy efficient,” Scott explained, “so each room will cool down incredibly quickly—and quietly.”

As the sun dips behind the trees and light filters onto the copper backsplash, it’s clear the Elliotts have built more than a vacation home—they’ve created a space that celebrates the meeting of contrasts: sleek and natural, minimal and warm, modern and timeless.

“We want people to see what’s possible here,” Meredith said. “You can have modern design without losing that sense of warmth.” And standing on the deck, surrounded by oaks and open sky, you can’t help but agree—this is a home that redefines what lakefront living can look like.

To see all the photos and partners go to: 2025 Lynchburg Living Idea House