"WE LOVE the outdoors. We love the woods," says Greg.

That goes without saying, really. We're standing in deep forest off a long driveway in Lake Forest Park. In a house that is more Midcentury modern cabin it is so nestled among some very old flora on a shy four acres. Walls of glass, glass and more glass giving the home living wallpaper all shades of green. With soil-to-treetop views even from the bathtub.

"A lot of people take their money and buy a vacation house, but we'd rather put it into this house," Greg says. "This property really is a vacation spot anyway."

"When you're coming up that driveway and you hear the birds and see the trees, you go 'ahhhhhhh.' You relax," his wife says.

Ahhhhhh indeed. The couple have been snuggled in here since 1995. Pretty good house already. Walls of glass original. Lots of built-ins. Terrazzo floors. Massive indoor-outdoor fireplace. Open kitchen. Critters for neighbors.

But 1955 was a long time ago, and the Midcentury was no longer all that modern.

"It was a big advantage to live here for a while so we really knew the house," says Greg's wife. "But it was kind of dangerous, too." She refers to the volatile Thermadore oven old enough to be an antique.

The couple was certain their home needed help in a big way. But, they confess, "between us, we didn't have a thread of artistic capability," and were unsure how to go about getting it.

A trip to AIA Seattle later, however, they had found their architect. Nils Finne. And now Greg, filled with new confidence, can tell you that the name of the glass accent tiles in the bathroom is Dinky Dolce from Ann Sacks. That the concrete in the hallway is Milestone. That the walk-in closet door is a Raum.

"When we saw Nils' notebook at the AIA, his photographs were of details," Greg says. "From that we knew he was the guy."

Finne took the home down to its studs, and contractor Schultz Miller built it back up as a crafted contemporary, retaining the spirit and footprint of the original. The floor plan, 2,600 square feet, was reorganized for a master suite surrounded by glass. Removing an ill-placed powder room opened the living room. To repair the floor, Finne interlaced fingers of old and new terrazzo at the entrance. The front door is a Finne design, his fixation on detail made known to all who enter.

Throughout are Finne signature moves uniquely crafted; computer-routed cabinet fronts, 3form resin panels with grass, Finne-designed light fixtures and blackened-steel valances. The palette is earthy Northwest. But down the center of the home is a 30-foot long contemporary edge — a wall of weathered-steel panels. Another in a lighted cast-glass kitchen counter. And still another in a glass wall between the master bedroom and bath with a hand-drawn pattern in etched glass. Old built-in storage was beat up. Finne drew up his own, in cherry or resin panels with grasses.

The old house had what would seem to be nice, big skylights. But, in truth, they were always covered in algae and needles. Finne chucked those for a roof monitor with clerestory windows.

Greg and his wife are delighted that their trip down to the local AIA office led to all of this.

"It was a real education," he says. "Nils designed everything right down to the toilet-paper holder. We told him that we don't do a whole lot of adorning the house with art. The structure is the art. "

Rebecca Teagarden writes about design and architecture for Pacific Northwest magazine. Benjamin Benschneider is a magazine staff photographer.