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Cynthia
Curtis didn’t
intend to make Wellesley
history. She just
wanted a small house
near the center of
town with a back yard
where she could garden
and her two dogs,
Bosco and Coco, could
romp.
Instead,
Curtis ended up building
the first single-family
home in town certified
under the stringent
standards for Leadership
in Energy and Environmental
Design (LEED). In
January, it received
a gold certification
(the second highest
of four award levels),
becoming one of only
34 LEED-approved residential
projects in the state
and 724 in the nation.
Wellesley already
has several LEED-certified
townhouses.
With
its dormer windows,
gabled roof, and clapboard
siding, Curtis’s
house blends right
in with the modest
colonials and capes
on quiet, tree-lined
Avon Street in the
College Heights section
of town. Until a year
ago, a 4,400-square-foot
house appeared destined
to consume just about
every available inch
of its steep, rocky
lot. But the McMansion
met its match in a
green house little
more than half its
size.
It
was built by a quartet
of extraordinarily
motivated people:
a client with a green
mind and a gift for
marketing; an architect
with an unfulfilled
passion; a builder
with an eye for detail
and the fortitude
to scale a mountain
of documentation;
and a landscaper with
a long commitment
to green practices.
They surmounted a
host of natural and
manmade obstacles:
an irregularly shaped
lot; strict zoning
regulations; and a
checklist for LEED
for Homes certification
that required a 114-page
booklet and an all-day
seminar to explain.
But
all agree the result
was worth it. The
three-bedroom house
features a sun-splashed
garden room with a
cathedral ceiling,
slate floor, and remote-controlled
skylights; radiant
heating that toasts
the toes when you
climb out of bed (and
into the shower);
a through-wall gas
fireplace that adds
romance to the dining
and living rooms;
and, throughout, handsome
bamboo floors and
custom-made cabinets
and shelving.
Curtis
originally wanted
to buy a small house,
but when she couldn’t
find one that suited
her needs she took
the plunge and built
her own. She bought
the lot from a developer
who had obtained
town approval to
build a house double
the size of the one
that had been there
before. Declining
to scale down his
plans for Curtis,
he agreed to sell
the property.

Although
she knew about LEED
houses, Curtis initially
didn’t
set her bar that high. “I
don’t
consider myself to
be a rabid environmentalist,” she
says. “But
you can do little
things, like the fluorescent
light bulb, taking
a canvas bag to the
store. … It
seemed like a no-brainer
to me to do an energy-efficient
home to the extent
I could afford.”
She
was inspired by an
article in WellesleyWeston
Magazine’s
Summer 2007 issue
about a small home
(by Wellesley standards)
with green features.
Impressed, she contacted
the architect, Jan
Gleysteen, whose Route
9 office happens to
be less than a mile
from her lot. It was
serendipitous. “This
is an opportunity
I’d
been waiting for…to
do a sustainable-designed
house,” Gleysteen
says. “This
was something I was
very passionate about.” Three
decades ago, when
the United States
was reeling from the
Arab oil embargo,
Gleysteen studied
energy-efficient design
while at university.
But by the time he
launched his career,
the price of oil—and
interest in conservation—was
on the decline.
By
designing the Curtis
home to LEED standards,
Gleysteen saw an opportunity
to tap the experience
from his student days
and bring both himself
and his staff up to
speed on green building
techniques. “Cynthia
was really great,” he
says. “For
her and for me, it
was a little bit of
a leap of faith”—and
an expensive one at
that. Because it is
relatively new, green
building costs 10-to-15
percent more than
conventional construction.
To sweeten the deal,
Gleysteen cut his
fees. “I
said if I’m
going to invest money
into this venture
by supplying a significant
portion of my services
out of my own pocket,
you need to be willing
to invest money into
this sustainable design.”
Curtis
also invested her
own considerable promotional
skills, honed as international
marketing manager
for a computer security
firm. Vivacious and
telegenic, she has
already appeared on
an episode of Renovation
Nation, with builder
Michael Lane. Team
Curtis selected the
Southborough-based
Lane because he is
a small solo builder
who could devote extra
attention demanded
by the rigorous LEED
standards. “It
couldn’t
be one of several
projects, it had to
be the central focus,” Gleysteen
says. This was Lane’s
first LEED home. “It
was kind of cool to
learn all about it,” he
says. “Jan
is cutting edge. It’s
an actual privilege
to hang out with him
and his team.”
Catching
the rays
There’s
another key player
on Team Curtis. This
one is 93 million
miles away.
From
the start, Curtis
wanted to tap the
sun’s
energy in her home.
The team decided the
most economically
feasible way to do
so was for heat and
hot water. Next it
had to solve a puzzle:
how to position the
house on its L-shaped
lot to maximize solar
exposure while complying
with the town’s
setback rules. Andrea
Shurtleff, who managed
the project for Gleysteen,
achieved the best
possible orientation
with just inches to
spare. The main part
of the house faces
southwest (due south
would have been be
ideal), its solar
panels capturing the
afternoon sun. A second
array of panels absorbs
the morning sun from
a perch on the garden
room, which extends
at an angle off the
kitchen.
Besides
fitting the house
into the lot, Team
Curtis made sure its
look fit that of its
80-year-old neighborhood.
Gleysteen chose the
Arts and Crafts style,
but with contemporary
touches. Among them:
vertical clapboard
on the second floor
to contrast with the
more typical horizontal
siding on the first.
To deemphasize the
solar panels, Gleysteen
nestled them among
prominent dormers.
The effect was to
create “a
stealth solar house,” as
he and host Steve
Thomas remarked on
Renovation Nation.
The
windows might be described
as stealth high tech.
A visual throwback
to the Prairie Style
of Frank Lloyd Wright,
they are double pane
for maximum energy
efficiency. In addition,
windows facing toward
the south have a coating
that lets in the sun’s
heat—but
only when it’s
wanted. Deep overhangs
block the steep rays
of summer while letting
in the slanted rays
of winter.
The
solar-heating system—installed
by Clean Energy Design
of Osterville—sends
water racing (otherwise
it could freeze) between
the roof and a 1,000-gallon
tank in the basement,
where the instrument
panels resemble those
of a ship’s
engine room. Curtis
hopes the sun will
supply 70 percent
of her heat and hot
water needs; a natural-gas
furnace backs it up
during cloudy spells.
A warren of tubing
under the floors—including
that of the garage— provides
radiant heat, which
does not require as
high a water temperature
as baseboard heat.
Curtis’s
summer cooling bills
will be the cost of
operating an attic
fan, which can suck
warm air out of most
of the house, and
ceiling fans. She
hopes a few simple
steps—such
as drawing shades
and closing windows
during peak heat—will
keep her comfortable
on all but the steamiest
days.
Not
green enough
Team
Curtis was surprised
to discover that all
those energy-saving
features counted for
much less than they
expected on the LEED
for Homes scorecard.
The “Yankee” air-conditioning
system, as Curtis
calls it, didn’t
earn even a single
point. “They’re
more concerned with
things that are more
intangible: Do you
live near a train
station? How are you
turning over the air
in your house?” Gleysteen
says.
While
energy-saving items
account for about
a third of possible
LEED points, the certification
system is geared also
to promoting recycling
of construction waste,
drought-resistant
landscaping, green
building products,
and higher density
housing. If your lot
happens to be within
blocks of stores and
public transit, your
house has an instant
advantage.
The
LEED process does
not reward solid,
traditional construction,
but rather new and
unconventional techniques. “If
the new stuff is based
on a tried-and-true
technology, we’ll
trust it,” he
says. “If
it’s
based on a new technology,
we’ll
wait until someone
else tests it for
five years.” Curtis,
for example, chose
granite for the kitchen
countertops rather
than a paper composite
material. “I’m
sure it is fine, but
I didn’t
want to risk my entire
kitchen on something
that was so new,” she
says.
Curtis
did opt to go with
bamboo flooring, which
scores points because
it comes from a rapid
growing grass. Concerned
about its durability,
she had Lane thoroughly
research the brands.
The builder came up
with flooring pre-finished
at the factory, giving
it a tougher surface.
As
to the mahogany front
door Curtis had her
heart set on, that
was out of the question.
It alone would have
disqualified the house
from certification.
The LEED for Homes
checklist calls for
wood that is grown
within 500 miles (to
keep the transportation
impact down) or approved
by the Forest Stewardship
Council, a not-for-profit
group that promotes “the
responsible management
of the world’s
forests.” As
a result, the front
door is fir.
Since
green building is
relatively new, products
can be more expensive
and tougher to find.
Low VOC (Volatile
Organic Compound)
paint—that
doesn’t
emit unhealthy fumes—costs
twice as much as regular
paint. The dimmable
compact fluorescent
bulbs didn’t
arrive until nearly
two months after Curtis
moved in.
At
times, Team Curtis
found LEED’s
strict rules maddening.
Take, for example,
the clapboard siding,
which is made out
of a cement material
called hardy board.
It looks like wood,
but is more durable.
It won’t
rot and will last
longer between paint
jobs. But because
it had to be shipped
from a factory in
Texas—outside
the LEED 500-mile
limit—the
hardy board didn’t
earn any points.
“The
LEED stipulations
are very particular,” acknowledges
Mike Schofield, who
served as the certifying
LEED for Homes consultant
on the project and
works for the nonprofit
Conservation Services
Group. Schofield adds
that the hardy board
also lost a chance
for credit because
it wasn’t
made out of recycled
material. The LEED
program wants manufacturers “to
push the envelope,” says
Schofield, whom Curtis
and Gleysteen praise
for helping them navigate
the certification
process.
Going
green does have its
cost advantages. Thanks
to LEED’s
emphasis on low-flow
plumbing fixtures,
Curtis shunned expensive,
multi-spray showers.
But she did pay extra
for dual flush toilets
that offer the choice
of using half as much
water.
Because
LEED encourages drought-resistant
plantings, Curtis
didn’t
need an irrigation
system. Her landscaper,
Roger B. Sturgis,
says he minimized
the lawn area by creating
a number of beds,
which he filled with
compost-rich soil
that readily retains
moisture. Curtis snapped
photos of the site
at different times
of the day and sent
them to her sister,
a horticulturalist
in Philadelphia who
helped select appropriate
plants.
Team
Curtis also saved
money and scored points
by building walls
out of rock dug up
during construction
and by finishing the
driveway with gravel
instead of asphalt.
Rainwater seeps through
the gravel into the
ground, rather than
running off into the
street.
The
burden of going green
fell heaviest on Lane
and Shurtleff. They
had to fill out reams
of paperwork. Among
Lane’s
biggest headaches
were sorting waste
for recycling and
tracking its ultimate
disposal. Lane had
to squeeze three dumpsters
on the tight lot and
carefully choreograph
the movement of heavy
equipment around them.
Still, Lane says of
the project overall: “We
had a lot fun doing
this. Cynthia had
such a great attitude.
It was contagious.”
The
pioneers
Both
Gleysteen and Lane
say they’re
ready to tackle another
LEED house. More important,
they look forward
to applying the lessons
they learned from
the Curtis project
to all the homes they
design and build. “We’re
a history-making project,” says
Gleysteen. “We
[went] out there with
our machetes, cutting
a path through the
jungle.”
Recognizing
that few people are
in a position to build
from the ground up,
Curtis wants to use
her house as a showcase
to encourage others
to incorporate green
features when they
remodel. On a chilly
day in late fall,
she held an open house
to thank her neighbors
for enduring the construction
project and to show
just how cozy a green
house can be. At the
party, a woman who
lives down the street
recalled spotting
a gigantic deer by
the side of Curtis’s
house: “He
was standing very
still. The only reason
we knew he was alive
was because he was
breathing in and out.
He seemed very at
peace.”
Perhaps
that’s
the ultimate seal
of approval.
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