Amy (Levi) and I have been fortunate to witness (and participate in) the evolution of The Pinehills—from its formative moments to its present, full-blossomed beauty. Getting to know the place and its people has proven to be one of the great joys of our shared experience at Strada.

Earliest memories: I vividly remember Tony leading us on an expedition into the woods when The Pinehills was nothing but an idea. I can still see him crashing through the underbrush, climbing a tree every now and then to get his bearings, all the while explaining to us where the Green was going to go, along with various buildings like the post office. All we could see were trees. He saw the future. A great new village in Plymouth, living in harmony with the natural landscape. Not a suburb, but a real village. It was all in his head. And we, the rest of us, gradually came to see it.

I remember a thousand town meetings. The long process of patiently, gradually changing minds and earning support for a completely new kind of neighborhood in this historically iconic New England town. Skeptical. Averse to change. Maybe it wasn't quite a thousand, but it felt like it.

I remember how excited we were at the sheer genius of the Summerhouse. Not selling but inviting. Captivating. People fell in love with the place the moment they stepped inside. What a concept. It marked a whole new way of introducing people to community.

I remember John's stories, told with his trademark style—so droll, so low-key, so darn funny that he would have us all in stitches. I always thought of John's deliberateness as the perfect complement to Tony's drive.

I remember (fondly) Donna's gracious hospitality—and her café au lait VW beetle cabriolet. And occasionally stopping by Tony's favorite little place in Plymouth: the Book and Bean.

Those were the days.

I remember being amazed at the history, beauty and sheer peculiarity of Old Sandwich Road. Largely unchanged in 300 years.

I remember the time, on an early tour of the property, when we were introduced to the "leavarites." Large boulders that were deemed too big to move. In each case, the decision was made to "leave it right there." Hence the name. They became part of the landscape—and part of The Pinehills lore. I love that story.

It told us, as storytellers, that there was an interesting philosophy at work in this place. More observant. More attentive to the beauty of nature. More inclined to work in harmony with it.
This same philosophy drove the thinking about the placement of roads and homes. Legend has it that Ken Moore (he's my hero) was frustrated with conventional thinking that threatened to cut through hillsides. He gave the direction to respect the topography and follow the contours of the hills—"the way God would do it." What an inspired way to guide a construction crew!

We created a large billboard to capture this philosophy. I was inspired by a line from an old song. The original lyric spoke about bending rules, but I altered it slightly, in celebration of the meandering nature of the community's roads and pathways: "If I were a road, I would bend."

Actually, this billboard was one of two designed to capture The Pinehills' spirit. The companion piece was "Walk your inner dog." A picture of an inviting walking trail winding through the woods stood as an invitation—a challenge, really—to get out, get moving, and explore this beautiful new/old place. The Pinehills was, and remains, the adventure of a lifetime.
There are so many stories that Amy and I carry with us. This is just a sample. But right about here is where Amy would be kicking my leg under the table, letting me know I should wrap it up. So that's what I'll do.

Cheers. And a very happy 25th to you all.
– David "Link" Lancaster, Strada Creative

Celebrating 25 Years

The Pinehills was, and remains, the adventure of a lifetime.

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