visitors in their own quarters, and, as a bonus, allows for only half of
the house to be heated during off-season weekend visits.
It is the tower that joins these public and private realms. The
ground floor is open, acting as a gateway from the driveway to the
more private and sheltered inner terrace. The second level is protected from the elements by wooden slats, while the third-floor parapet is like an open crow’s-nest from which to experience the windy
island’s many moods.
The no-nonsense farmhouse sensibility of the exterior carries on
into the understated interior, with its polished concrete floors, plain
a deck, half sheltered by the roof eaves, serves as transitional
space between indoors and out, offering either partial or full exposure
to the weather. The half wall provides a place for toe lighting while
metal railings strung with marine wire keep the views unobstructed.
white walls, and stained plywood cabinetry. “I do not like to lay on a
lot of trim and junk,” says the straightforward Estes. Eschewing any
kind of grandeur, the main entrance serves as a way station for hanging windbreakers and hats, kicking off sandals, and stashing fishing
poles before heading up the open stairway to the living space.
Kitchen, dining, and living area are unified beneath a single-pitch ceiling whose exposed rafters become the overhanging eaves
that protect the western-facing deck. (The deck also wraps around to
the south of the living room and a staircase that leads down to the
yard, an outdoor space sheltered by the two wings of the house.) The
furniture is comfortable rather than elegant, creating an atmosphere
that emphasizes vacation living. Although there is a decidedly spare
aesthetic — Shaker, Scandinavian, Andrew Wyeth all come to mind
— this house is really about capturing the light of this last great
