From the Ground, Up

As a house, it was completely unappealing. But throw in a leafy lot safe from surrounding development, and you have the beginning of something grand.

WHEN DONNA GREENFIELD AND BURKEY BELSER WERE HOUSE-HUNTING A DECADE AGO, they were appalled by what he calls the "cramped, dark little brick English country cottage with five tiny bedrooms and terrible feng shui" at the bottom of a steep cul-de-sac in Bethesda.

But, oh, the grounds. Although less than half an acre, the land was a horticultural paradise, with soaring trees, unusual specimen plantings and a topography that sloped downward into a U.S. Army Corps of Engineers flood plain feeding into the Dalecarlia Reservoir. Fortunately, the flood plain designation meant the woodlands could not be further developed, leaving neighboring homes barely visible through all the flora.

And so, for $670,000, the couple -- who had never occupied a residence or office they did not completely remake -- bought themselves yet another construction project. In the end, they would spend 10 years living in a state of serial renovation and would oversee seven projects that transformed the property.

What resulted: dramatic rooms filled with eclectic furnishings, art and oddments; an increasingly layered terrain that has come to resemble a Sierra Club calendar; and enough glass to bring that glorious outdoors in.

The couple, who own Greenfield/Belser, a Washington marketing and branding firm, used two architects, Stephen Glassman of New Oxford, Pa., and the District's Joseph Gorman. Among the team's most ambitious tasks: adding a spectacular glass and cedar sunroom to the right side of the house (and, later, a two-level deck and wave pool just outside); tearing out upstairs walls to create a master suite; sculpting the outdoors with an aged-looking stone wall out front and a stone patio out back, all surrounded by terraced gardens that bloom nearly year-round; and, most recently, creating a three-story addition on the left side of the house with an expanded kitchen, family room, renovated upstairs bedrooms and baths and a basement workshop.

They did their own interior design, based on objects acquired here and on their extensive travels. (Belser's favorite is a totem pole carved at Expo '74 in Spokane, Wash.; Greenfield's is a 12-sided canvas floor cloth that her husband painted years ago.)

Guests now come down a stone path and enter through what was the garage; its original oak doors were retrofitted with several clear panes to provide light. In the large foyer, a tableau on a rough-hewn shelf telegraphs the prevailing aesthetic: A 16th-century bronze Thai Buddha rests under a contemporary abstract canvas construction by Washington artist Sam Gilliam.

"The idea," Greenfield says, "was not to have lots of things but wonderful things."

To the right of the foyer is a 450-square-foot solarium, which rises 14 feet at its highest point. One corner is dominated by a quartet of African masks, each representing, but bearing zero resemblance to, Belser, Greenfield and their daughters, Mikell and Lauren.

To the left of the foyer is an L-shaped kitchen, its walls covered in four-inch squares of acid-burnished copper leaf. "You don't know how many late-night hours I spent on the Internet looking for copper sinks, copper paper towel holders and other accessories," Greenfield says of her favorite metal. "This was before copper became the hot finish."

Designed for entertaining, the kitchen has two sinks, refrigerators and dishwashers. A circa 200 A.D. stone amphora that once held olive oil nestles in a lighted niche just below the ceiling.

Beyond the kitchen and through French doors is the dining room. Its stone fireplace, like the wall of windows across from it, is original to the house. The room is anchored by an old conference table once clad in red laminate but long ago re-covered in riveted copper. Eight government surplus office chairs got a similar face-lift, with enough high-gloss paint to resemble lacquer.

The book-filled living room is nestled between the dining room and sunroom, and although the ceiling here is lower than eight feet, new tray molding and a two-tone paint job give the illusion of height.

Belser laments spending the cold months indoors, unable to work in what he calls his "contemplative garden." (He did, however, rush outside during a late January snowfall to photograph a pair of red foxes that had breached the fence.)

With the house finally finished, there is no more camping out in the living room while the bedroom is enlarged, or eating takeout food in the absence of a working kitchen.

This construction vacuum might have made them both itchy, but two years ago they bought a teardown in South Bethany Beach, Del., Greenfield says. "For the first time, we're building something new, from the ground up. Wanna see the pictures?"

NEXT: See the photos.

Annie Groer is a writer for The Post's Home section. She can be reached at groera@washpost.com.