Estate Homes.

I price the site work honestly, including the parts nobody enjoys paying for. Dirt, drainage, drives and utilities are where the surprises live, and I’d rather put real numbers on them in month one.

A custom home is a long relationship with whoever builds it. You’ll talk to me more in eighteen months than you talk to most people in your life, and a good portion of those conversations will be about things that didn’t go to plan. That’s normal. Weather moves, materials arrive damaged, an inspector reads something differently than expected. What matters is whether the person telling you has a plan attached to the news, and whether the same person is still answering the phone a year after you move in. One family has brought me back for a fourth project. That only happens if the earlier ones went right.

Nothing gets covered that I wouldn’t be comfortable looking at in five years. If something needs to be redone, it gets redone before the drywall goes on.

Site work is the single most underestimated line in a custom build. Clearing, cut and fill, the driveway, drainage structures, the septic field if you’re on one, and the utility runs from wherever the service actually is to wherever your house will be. On an easy lot it’s modest. On a hard one it can rival the cost of framing the entire house. I put real numbers on it before you’re committed, because discovering it later is the most common way a budget comes apart in the first ninety days.

The trades on my jobs have worked with me for years. That isn't sentiment, it's how the work stays good.

I’d rather over-explain this early than have you learn it the hard way.

I price the site work honestly, including the parts nobody enjoys paying for. Dirt, drainage, drives and utilities are where the surprises live, and I’d rather put real numbers on them in month one.

A custom home is a long relationship with whoever builds it. You’ll talk to me more in eighteen months than you talk to most people in your life, and a good portion of those conversations will be about things that didn’t go to plan. That’s normal. Weather moves, materials arrive damaged, an inspector reads something differently than expected. What matters is whether the person telling you has a plan attached to the news, and whether the same person is still answering the phone a year after you move in. One family has brought me back for a fourth project. That only happens if the earlier ones went right.

The walk-through isn’t the end. There’s a punch list, and then there’s the first year, when a new house dries out and settles and reveals the things that only appear under real use. Nail pops, a door that needs adjusting, a grout line that wants attention. I expect those calls and I answer them. A builder who disappears at closing was never really building for you; he was building to hand something over.

Permitting here is its own small project. Plan review, the engineered foundation letter, the drainage plan, and on an acreage lot the septic permit, which has its own soil testing and its own calendar. I start those early because none of them move faster for being asked twice, and a set of plans sitting in review is a set of plans not being built.