deserve their own slow consideration. The walk-through closet beyond the bath is lined in cedar and outfitted with custom millwork that speaks less to vanity than to the kind of deliberate order a property like this demands, where every surface earns its place and nothing is provisional. Illuminated shelving recedes toward the far door like a gallery corridor, each compartment scaled for purpose rather than spectacle, the grain of the wood carrying warmth into what could otherwise read as mere utility. That far door opens toward the weekend rhythm of the estate itself, where the grounds begin to assert a different kind of authority and the house starts to release you into something wider than rooms can