The property runs from the road back across a south-sloping field, past a stone wall that pre-dates the house by a century, to a line of mature oak and beech that screens the lower meadow. The drive is a quarter-mile of crushed bluestone — regraded, not re-laid. The house sits at the top of the rise in three low pavilions of full-height glass between piers of dressed Connecticut fieldstone, linked by a single 120-foot oak gallery that runs east to west and frames the prevailing view.

Ferris's plan is loose-fit: the eastern pavilion holds the living and kitchen volumes under a 14-foot exposed steel ceiling; the central pavilion is the primary suite, with its own walled garden; the western pavilion holds three further bedrooms and a library that opens to the lower meadow. The landscape was reset in 2023 by Reed Hilderbrand — naturalistic meadow planting to the south, a clay-lined swimming pond cut into the upper field, and a stone-walled cutting garden of the same dimensions as the one that stood there in 1929.

The estate runs net-zero on operational energy, heated entirely by a geothermal field beneath the meadow.