Not every house is built to be seen. The Milo House, designed by Vermont-based studio Elizabeth Herrmann Architecture + Design, is exactly that kind of building. Perched on a hillside in Cornwall, Vermont, the home was conceived for a couple relocating from Boston — and named, warmly, after their dog.
The site set the agenda from day one. Orchards, a dense tree canopy, and long western views stretching toward the Adirondack Mountains shaped every decision Herrmann made. The result is a composition of irregular, offset volumes that feel less like a house imposed on a hillside and more like one that grew there. The forms respond directly to topography, pushing and pulling against the terrain to create what Herrmann describes as moments of “compression and release” that unfold as you move through the home.
Design: Elizabeth Herrmann Architecture + Design
The exterior material choice is where the design gets its clearest statement. Facades are clad in Nakamoto Forestry’s Gendai® yakisugi — Japanese cedar charred using an ancient technique that enhances the wood’s durability, rot resistance, and dimensional stability. The Gendai® variation is brushed once after charring to soften the soot, letting the cedar’s natural grain surface beneath the carbonized skin. Up close, it has depth. From a distance, it reads almost exactly like bark. That’s not coincidental. “We were really interested in having the house feel natural — almost bark-like in tone and texture,” says Herrmann. “We love working with natural materials that have texture, patina, and depth of character.”
The material also carries an implicit philosophy about time. Yakisugi isn’t meant to stay static — it weathers, shifts, and evolves. “The point of yakisugi isn’t for it to stay frozen in time. It’s a living material designed to evolve. The clients really embraced that idea,” Herrmann notes. For a home built around slower living, remote work, and genuine connection to place, that mindset runs all the way through.
Step inside and the dark exterior gives way to cathedral-like rooms, earthy finishes, and an abundance of natural light. Cross-ventilation moves through the offset volumes efficiently, and the siting frames views rather than competes with them. A detached sauna, clad in the same yakisugi siding, anchors the property and completes the picture — a full retreat, not just a house. The Milo House isn’t trying to be a landmark. It’s trying to belong. And it does.
