OPPORTUNITY KNOCKS

The first time architectural opportunity knocked, Travis Penn and John Wicher lived in the Queen Anne in Seattle’s Center. It was an actual knock. At the door was their neighbor, Geoff Prentiss, just delivering a neighborly how-doyou-do. He is an actual architect.

That was a while back, but some initial connections span time and distance.

The couple later moved and alighted on a heavenly but devilishly steep site in the Washington Park neighborhood, with an older, one-level home on one arm of the T at the end of a dead-end road. Working with general contractor Schultz Miller, the former neighbor and his firm, the couple added a second floor and “did a pretty extensive remodel,” Prentiss says.

When architectural opportunity knocked again, it was right next door. On the other arm of that deadend T, a green farmhouse dating to 1916, concealed by spreading greenery and stealthily sliding down that heavenly hill, went on the market.

“It had been so overgrown,” says Penn. “We said, ‘Why don’t we buy it and control it ourselves?’ ”

Initially, the couple rented it out, thinking they’d build a new spec house and sell it. But then, Penn says, “John and I realized it’d be the only house we’d ever design from the ground up.”

The dream-team duo reconvened, joined by interior designer Holly McKinley. And now, rising up, up, up from a concrete foundation, Penn and Wicher’s all-new, transitional, thoughtful home rests securely on its slope, its 5,320 square feet filled with abundant light, majestic viewpoints and artful remembrances of special people and places.

The palette is consistent, neutral and warm — riftsawn white oak paneling and plank flooring — with

“an overall feeling of a home of warmth, embracing color with highlights,” says Prentiss. One of those happy highlights is the workout space over the garage, with an orange staircase that’s “an homage to ‘Pee-wee’s Playhouse.’ ” The lines are crisp, the trim is minimal. The custom details are distinct.

“These guys are very organized,” Prentiss says.

“They knew what they wanted.”

For example: In the dining area, there’s one drawer for napkins, and another for place mats. Because often, this transitional,

STEVE RINGMAN/SEATTLE TIMES PHOTOS In the great room, under a 17-foot-high ceiling, light shines through opaque shelves holding glass from Venice.

A custom two-story wallpaper map of the world fills the wall behind the main stairway.

At the top of the main staircase, above Travis Penn’s grandmother’s settee, hangs a painting titled “Millie.”