03/24/2026
Why I built our Private Island House
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It Started Under the Mangroves
Before there was a house, there was just a dock and some shade.
Catherine, Saylor, and I would come out to the property and sit under the mangroves. No plans. No structure. Just the breeze coming off the bay.
That’s where the idea came from.
Not to build something impressive.
To not lose that feeling.
If It Didn’t Feel Like Outside, It Was Wrong
I’ve spent my life on the water. Boats teach you something most houses forget—efficiency matters, but experience matters more.
So I didn’t want a sealed box with air-conditioning fighting the environment.
I wanted a place where:
The wind does the work
The space adapts to the day
You feel where you are at all times
That’s why walls of glass open front and back
That’s why the stairwells breathe.
That’s why much of the year we don‘t need air conditioning.
If you forget you’re on an island, the design failed.
Small Was a Decision, Not a Constraint
We could have built bigger.
Didn’t.
Four bedrooms. Comfortable and cozy where it should be. Open where it matters.
Storage hidden. Kids bunks tucked into corners. Shared space prioritized.
Because the goal wasn’t square footage.
It was proximity.
You’re supposed to be close to each other here.
Everything Has a Past
I don’t like new for the sake of new.
We pulled in materials with history:
Wood tied back to Sarasota’s early days
Fixtures that already lived a life
A sail that’s seen more ocean than most people ever will
That matters to me.
A house should have a heartbeat the day it’s finished.
Food Is the Center of It All
If you want to understand the house, watch what happens at dinner.
Everything slows down.
People gather without being told.
We planted fruit trees for a reason—not landscaping, but participation.
You don’t just eat here.
You pull food out of the ground and bring it to the table.
That changes things.
The Evenings Are the Point
After the sun drops, the house disappears.
No walls. No ceiling, really. Just air and sound.
Kids fall asleep. Adults stay up.
I’ll have a cigar.
Conversations go longer than they should.
And every once in a while, it feels exactly like it did before anything was built.
That’s when I know we got it right.
It Was Never Meant to Be Ours Alone
From the beginning, we brought people out.
Friends. Family. Anyone who understood it.
So renting it wasn’t a business idea.
It was just an extension of that.
Good places shouldn’t sit empty.
What I Actually Built
I didn’t build a house.
I built a way to hold onto something that’s easy to lose—
time together, outside, without friction.
If it still feels like sitting under those mangroves…
Then the house is doing its job.
— Stephen Ellis
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