A hand-built home near Raglan embodies friendship, creativity and the spirit of manaakitanga.
Morning light drifts across the deck of Meg Woodward and Adriaan Dekker’s home, catching the seed pods of harakeke as the sound of surf rumbles on the Raglan bar. It’s how most days begin for the couple: coffee cups warming their hands, tūī flicking between stalks. Life here moves at an easy pace, shaped by the hillside and the way the building settles into it.
Set on one-and-a-half hectares above the Whāingaroa Harbour, the place feels as though it has emerged from the landscape itself. Before the design began, Adriaan started planting, watching how the wind moved and where the sun fell, re-establishing natives as the once-bare slopes regenerated. The design took its cues from those early observations of light and shelter. What stands now is the result of years of steady mahi — a place that feels generous because its making was.
Architect and long-time friend Adam Mercer describes the project as a meeting of worlds, part coastal modernism and part wharenui.
“It was never about style,” he says. “It was about connection.” Their friendship made for an intuitive process: sketches shared over meals, ideas traded until they felt right.
Choosing this site was as much about feeling as geography. Whāingaroa offered balance — close to the sea and community, yet surrounded by quiet. When they found this hillside above the estuary, Adriaan saw what it could become. They had watched Raglan grow busier over the years, and wanted somewhere with breathing room. A friend eventually agreed to sell, with one condition: that they’d be good neighbours.
Adam’s touch is seen in the restraint of the design — the way structure and outlook are balanced so nothing feels overworked. Adriaan took on the construction himself, working out how every part fitted together to create a building that would last. “If you’re going to live in something, you should know how it’s held together,” he says. At around 140sqm, the home is modest in scale but generous in intent, the outcome of patience and a hands-on process.
with Envy encapsulates the casual vibe of the interiors.
The project became a way to support the rhythm of family life: room for son Archie to roam, space for their blended whānau to visit. A home designed to stretch to fit their days rather than dictate them.
Two pavilions form the plan — one for living, one for rest — linked by a covered mid-deck. Moving between them feels natural, like stepping along a boardwalk through bush. There’s no front door. People wander in from every direction, across the lawn, through the kitchen, up the path from the guest whare.
The couple describe wanting the place to evoke a marae, not through mimicry but generosity. “It’s about people more than architecture,” says Meg. Meals stretch into the evening, children drift between spaces, and friends who plan to stay just one night often linger for days.
love of surf, nature and manaakitanga), which is dressed in natural-toned linens from Adairs. ABOVE Local carver Simon Te Wheoro made the large Pekapeka carving that hangs on the wall of the mid-deck. “I had it commissioned for Adriaan’s 60th as a surprise,“ says Meg. ”It is a representation of
Adriaan and me, and our whanau, coming together.”
Inside, the layout encourages that gathering spirit. The kitchen, dining and living areas share one open volume beneath a high timber ceiling, so conversation moves easily from bench to table to sofa. Wide glazing opens on both sides, pulling air through, and the mid-deck works as a natural hinge between sociable spaces and the quieter rooms beyond.
The second pavilion holds the bedrooms and bathrooms. Meg laughs that she and Adriaan keep different hours so having the pavilions set apart lends a sense of peace and quiet. “Adriaan is an early bird and I’m a night owl. He’s often up making a racket with the coffee machine.”
Exposed timber recalls the framework of a wharenui: heke/ribs overhead, a tāhuhu/backbone through the centre, poupou/wall posts defining the walls. “Those big beams remind me of the structure of a wharenui,” says Adriaan. “It’s a good feeling, being able to see how it’s made.” The structure carries the wairua of their labour, its strength drawn from the effort invested in every joint and junction.
Walls lined in kauri ply, fixed without nails, are an act of respect for the timber. Its soft grain and golden tone bring warmth to the interior, balanced by the cool solidity of concrete floors.
can still feel generous.
Meg’s background in styling and visual merchandising gives the rooms balance, curated yet unforced. “You have to listen to what the space wants,” she says. The result is harmony between architecture and life, where everything feels chosen, not contrived.
Having moved in before the linings went up, Meg remembers sleeping on a mattress in the lounge while pregnant, stars visible beyond the unfinished roof. “It wasn’t easy,” she says, “but it meant we could live the build, and change things as we went.” Built-in furniture followed, added as needed. As Adriaan says, “We didn’t want a house that tells you what to do. We wanted one that listens.”
Beyond the main home, two small retreats — Whare Tatū and Whare Tōtahi — have been created for whānau and guests. Adriaan crafted the boardwalk steps that lead to them, winding through stands of kānuka and flax. Available to book on Airbnb, they extend the home’s spirit rather than stand apart from it.
What was once bare hillside is now thick with life: tī kōuka, mānuka and kānuka, bursts of kōwhai and young tōtara. Planting reaches right to the edge of the deck so that the structure sits within the bush rather than above it. A low earth bund, which runs the length of the western edge of the site, is planted thickly to temper the wind and hold warmth in the garden. Birds feed and nest here, their calls drifting through the open rooms.
This place carries the memory of its making, the shared labour, friendship and thoughtful decisions that shaped it. Its spirit is generous, open to change, growing alongside the garden around it. For Meg and Adriaan, life here feels simple in the best way. What they’ve created is not a statement but a continuation — a place to live, host and care for others, made with heart in every sense.
Words Alice Lines
Photography Grant Davis
The post A home built with heart on Raglan’s hillside appeared first on homestyle magazine.
