This north-to-south view shows the variety of roof heights and the stone and wood terraces that comprise the house. One of two master suites is in the foreground.

The first thing many people think about when they are planning a new home is the building. But the lesson they learn in the process is that it may have been more valuable to fully understand the site before rushing ahead to the structure. The results of unhappy marriages between houses and sites clutter the landscape of Seattle and King County. Mercy's house could have been one of them. His story is a lesson in rethinking — a lesson that all would-be homebuilders can learn from.

Mercy lived on the Sammamish Plateau eight years ago when he began looking at property in east King County. He and Tom Zachery, a landscape architect with whom he had worked in the past, looked at a number of properties. Mercy was attracted to a five-acre plot in the alder-covered upper reaches of Preston, an area that had been a stone quarry for some years.

"Randy was able to see the underlying character of this site better than any of us," Zachery remembers. "It was completely covered with small alder saplings, the view almost entirely obscured." When the site was cleared, it opened up a magnificent view of Mount Si, the Cascade Mountains and the verdant valley below.

Like all the public areas, the dining room is oriented to the east and southeast views. Cherry and maple cabinets include a pass-through from the kitchen. Fossils are embedded in the Indian slate used in floors and on some walls.
Wing-like arms lead to the stair that rises to a windowed landing and finally to the second-floor library and sitting area. The stair is built of maple with cherry wood and brass trim.

Mercy initially thought the easiest place to put the house was on the flat quarry floor. The first architectural ideas led to an immediate dead end. "The contractor wanted to put a ski village down there . . . But it turned out that there wasn't enough room." Next, Mercy considered a Swiss-style chalet design called The Tyrolean he had seen in a magazine. It was a box-like structure decorated with stone. A contractor he was working with drew up plans from the image.

This time, Zachery put his foot down: "You can't put this building on this site." They decided the only way to proceed was to hire an architect who would start with the site. Zachery introduced Mercy to Ken MacInnes, a local architect with architectural-history training and experience in siting issues.

First, MacInnes worked to adapt the Tyrolean house to the site. "I tried. I came back to Randy and said, 'I don't think I can do it.' I expected our relationship to end then and there. Another week went by and Randy called and said, 'Would you like to start from scratch?' "

Mercy had to admit the two-story Tyrolean "would have dominated the site — a huge house at the top of the cliff, all out of proportion. I resisted at first because I had invested in the complete plans for the Tyrolean house and had submitted them to the building department. But it struck me that they were absolutely right."

The architect's goal was to create a house that followed the contours of the top of the cliff and expanded outward to the breathtaking views. It is composed of interconnected spaces of different heights sheltered by various pitched roofs and covered porches; all the public rooms and the master bedrooms take in the views.

From Mercy's one-story suite at the far north end, the house opens up to living room, dining and kitchen, growing as the land drops off to encompass garages below. A partial second story includes a suite for his mother, two additional bedrooms, and a library and sitting area off the stair landing.

Mercy was clear on several points. "I wanted it to blend into the natural landscape. I may have used the word 'lodge.' We discussed natural materials. The stone on this site was not suitable for construction. It was too crumbly." They went to Marenakos Rock Center for Montana and Eagle Mountain ledge stone.

Mercy also wanted the garage built into the house so it wasn't seen from the front entry. And he wanted to avoid emphasizing the size of the house. By staggering the heights, MacInnes downplayed its actual size — approximately 4,500 square feet of heated areas, including the basement and garages. Covered porches or terraces take up another 1,000 square feet. MacInnes likes covered decks because in this climate, they get used year-round.

The house rises from a stone-covered foundation and pillars to clear fir posts and rafters with copper caps. Horizontal narrow and wide cedar wainscot are joined to upper walls of taupe-colored synthetic stucco with a terra-cotta-colored band at its top, capped by cement tile roofing.

A series of interconnected covered terraces spans the east side of the house. The one in the foreground is off the living room. At rear is the smaller terrace off the den/family room. There is a lovely rhythm of stone and timber columns and steel and wood balusters. Shaun Fielding of Black Dog Construction did finish carpentry and wood siding. Dan Gagnon of All Masonry, Inc., did stone siding.		The kitchen is outfitted with cherry cabinets and red granite counters. Steve Bettinger of Bettinger Wood Products did the cabinetry.

"Randy wanted synthetic stucco," MacInnes says. But Mercy credits his mother Verna with that choice. "She didn't want to see all wood on the house." Little did Mercy know how much the local woodpeckers would like the stuff. Six years after completion, some 32 holes have been pecked out of the façade.

Julie Chien took on construction management; Mercy acted as general contractor. They managed to bring down the estimated cost of the project by using small local firms for most of the subcontracts. Mercy did all the wood finishing himself. Most of the major construction was completed in 10 months.

Zachery worked with MacInnes to plan the hard surfaces connecting with the landscaping. Plantings west of the house include fragrant shrubs, rhododendrons, azaleas and evergreen huckleberry; on the east side are a spirea border and deciduous shrubs. All the conifers are "volunteers," as is the colorful foxglove that inhabits the lawn in early summer. There are plans for a water feature and pond. In the meantime, Zachery and Mercy have developed a trail down a slope into the trees, across a bridge that skirts a small bog and back up to the lawn.

Zachery is partly kidding, partly serious when he says, "This is the way it's supposed to be, according to the landscape architect. The client finds the landscape architect and then he finds the architect."

Lawrence Kreisman is program director for Historic Seattle. He serves on the Seattle Landmarks Preservation Board and is author of "Made to Last: Historic Preservation in Seattle and King County." Barry Wong is a Pacific Northwest magazine staff photographer.