How Western Sydney shaped CBRE development specialist Alex Mirzaian

Winter has a way of rewriting our relationship with home. As days shorten and the air sharpens, the meaning of comfort shifts from openness and display towards shelter, stillness and sensory warmth. Today’s most compelling residences are increasingly shaped around this seasonal instinct, designed not simply as places to live, but as places to withdraw, recalibrate and reconnect with nature and family.

Nowhere is that more evident than at the Hardy residence, a minimalist home set on a private lake in rural Ontario. Low, linear and deeply embedded in its landscape, the house does not resist winter but draws it in, making it part of daily life.

For MafcoHouse Company founder Dan Molenaar, the brief was not about creating a showpiece, but a refuge.

“Material warmth was fundamental,” he says. “We used locally milled tongue and groove Douglas fir extensively…paired with light oak flooring. These natural materials bring inherent warmth through their honey tones and organic texture.”

The design is intentionally grounded. A single-storey form stretches across the site, hugging the plateau rather than rising above it. Floor-to-ceiling glazing opens the home to the lake and surrounding forest, while deep overhangs carefully control light and temperature across the seasons.

“The floor-to-ceiling glazing might seem counterintuitive for warmth, but it actually intensifies the feeling of being safely inside while connected to the wild beauty outside,” Dan says.

“You’re watching the snow fall, the lake freeze, the wildlife move through, all from a warm, secure vantage point.”

Primal gathering

This balance between exposure and protection is what defines the house. Passive solar principles allow low winter sun to penetrate deep into the interiors, while a high-efficiency wood stove becomes both a practical heat source and an emotional anchor.

“There’s something primal about gathering around a fire when it’s harsh outside that makes minimalism feel like refuge rather than austerity,” Dan says.

The layout reinforces this rhythm. Separate sleeping and living wings are connected by an interior corridor, creating deliberate transitions between solitude and togetherness.

“You’re moving from private to communal, from rest to activity,” Dan explains. “It’s a small ritual, but it adds meaning to daily rhythms.”

What emerges is a home that feels less like an object and more like a lens. A place that allows its occupants to experience winter fully, rather than retreat from it.

From this lakeside setting, a broader pattern emerges. Across very different landscapes and architectural approaches, designers are moving away from excess and towards something more considered, where atmosphere, materiality and connection take precedence over scale.

Radical restraint

At Serentha Cabin in Mexico’s Valle de Guadalupe, that idea is expressed through radical restraint.

Set within an olive grove, the house is composed of two simple volumes that frame a central courtyard, allowing the landscape to shape both form and experience.

“Serentha Cabin was conceived less as an object in the landscape and more as a condition of shelter within it,” says architect Tomas Ortiz. “The sense of protection comes from clarity and restraint rather than enclosure for its own sake.”

The building turns inward, filtering views and focusing attention on carefully framed moments of sky, light and vegetation. It is an architecture of reduction, designed to slow its occupants down.

“By reducing visual noise and scale, the architecture encourages a slower rhythm of occupation,” Tomas says.

Material choices follow the same logic. Corrugated metal and concrete form the primary structure, while a wood-veneer ceiling introduces warmth, chosen for their ability to age, perform and engage the senses.

“Emotional comfort is not achieved through excess, but through balance,” he says. “The simplicity of the palette allows occupants to become more aware of subtle changes in temperature, sound, and light.”

In Victoria’s High Country, that relationship with winter becomes more intimate, more lived-in. At Alpine Glow in Bright, the brief was never to shut the season out, but to draw it closer. The project was delivered in collaboration with JH Building and Design, Imogen Pullar Architecture and Britt White Studio, bringing together construction expertise, material direction and interior curation.

“Because we live and work in a winter climate, that way of thinking is second nature to us,” says Britt Howard, Creative Director of Britt White Studio.

“If you embrace nature, you embrace winter too. It becomes part of the experience of the home rather than something you are defending yourself from.”

Shifting light

That philosophy plays out in the way the house opens itself to the landscape, with key living spaces oriented towards long views and shifting light. Windows are not just apertures, but instruments, framing the alpine environment as it changes across the day and the season.

“There’s something primal about gathering around a fire when it’s harsh outside.”

For Britt, the idea of comfort extends well beyond temperature. “Warmth in a home is never only about heating,” she says. “It’s about what the home feels like in a more sensory way.”

At Alpine Glow, that translates into a layered interior, where spotted gum linings, rich textiles and deep, autumnal tones create what she describes as “a sense of visual warmth…something you feel not only physically, but emotionally as well.”

“Luxury…comes from the quality of what is there, rather than how much is there,” Britt says. “We were very conscious about what not to add.”

Open environment

That same instinct toward reduction, albeit expressed differently, shapes Porcupine Farmstead in rural Victoria.

“Rather than announcing itself to the landscape, the building is deliberately grounded and recessive,” says director Kelly Holland. of K. Holland Architectural Interiors. “In winter… it allows the house to feel protective and inward-looking without becoming disconnected.

“Openings are framed rather than expansive for the sake of it, so views feel curated and intentional,” she says. “Something you arrive at, rather than something constantly on display.”

Inside, the architecture slows everything down. “The planning is simple and legible…allowing the experience of the house to feel calm and unforced,” she explains.

Materiality follows suit. “Nothing is polished; instead, there’s a deliberate rawness that allows the house to sit comfortably within its rural context.”

In Canada’s suburbs, the transformation of #7StartGeneral_House offers another interpretation of this shift, one grounded in adaptation rather than retreat. What was once a dark, compartmentalised post-war home has been reworked into a light-filled, open environment that feels both contemporary and connected to its context.

Rather than expanding the footprint, the design focuses on clarity, flow and the careful use of light.

“The residents chose to invest in refined, purposeful spaces carefully tailored to their daily lives,” says Principal Jay S. Lim.

A mature maple tree becomes the home’s focal point, framed by large windows that track its seasonal changes. In winter, the bare branches allow sunlight to penetrate deep into the house, contributing to warmth and reinforcing a connection to the landscape.

“Framing the mature maple tree was a deliberate architectural move,” Jay explains. “Throughout the year, the tree actively shapes how the home performs and feels.”

At Cricket Hollow, in Niagara’s Port Dalhousie, the focus turns inward again. Despite its generous size, the original home lacked cohesion, its spaces disconnected and underused.

“The original layout felt quite compartmentalised, so we focused on opening sightlines and creating a more fluid relationship between spaces,” designer Isabel Clune, of Isabel Clune Design, says.

The home now feels more intimate, despite its size. Circulation flows through lived-in areas, encouraging interaction, particularly during the colder months when families spend more time indoors.

“That shift makes the house feel more connected, less formal, more grounded in how people actually live,” Isabel says.

This article appeared in the Winter 26 issue of Kanebridge Quarterly, which you can buy here.