Why I Name My Projects (and Why My Clients Love It Too)

“The Almond House, what’s that?”
“Can you tell me what a Baobab Tree is?”
“Where did you get that name from?”
“What’s the story behind Willow House?”

These are the kinds of questions I hear regularly from trades, clients, and community members whenever a new project name appears. By now, people are getting used to it. But for someone new, the idea of calling a house after a tree, flower, or bush can seem a little… out there. So here it is: the story of why I name my projects.

Truth be told, I’ve always been a little eccentric. I like doing life differently. The status quo has never been my style. Traditionally, designers label projects after the client’s name or the street they live on. But that led to overlaps, repetition—and to be honest, it felt a little bland.

Storytelling, on the other hand, lights me up. I’ve loved stories since childhood—family stories, adventures, tales of love and loss, even historical ones. I was told not to ask too many questions, but I didn’t listen. Curiosity became my superpower.

Every house and every person has a unique story, and so does the natural world. Tying my love of nature to my clients’ stories felt like a natural evolution. Everyone has a favorite flower, a tree that means something to them, or even a tree on their property that has stood for generations. Those stories became the seed for our project names.

Take Baobab House, for example. The clients’ last trip before children was to Madagascar, where they encountered the majestic baobab tree. It was such a meaningful experience that one of their photos of the tree now hangs in their foyer to welcome guests. That story inspired the name—and it became part of the design journey too.

We always start with stories. At my first meeting, I listen closely and look for clues: is there a memory, a symbol, or a feature of the house that resonates? Ultimately, the clients choose the name, making it theirs. Sometimes it reflects where they are in life, a special memory, or something rooted in the home itself.

The bonus? Naming keeps my clients completely anonymous on social media and the website—a practical solution that also feels poetic. What started as a quirky idea is now a ritual that has become part of our company culture.

It gives each project soul. A home becomes more than a structure; it becomes a story with a name. If I ever embark on my own renovation, I already know what I’ll call it: Spruce House—after the towering old spruce trees that stand watch over my home. Imagine the stories they could tell.

The next time you look at your own home, ask yourself:
If it had a name, what would it be—and why?