Beyond the ordinary

This is where our journey begins, 1609 Otter Creek Road, Nashville, Tennessee 37215, the First House on the Hill, built in the early 1960s by Glenn and Stella Waters, it was built out of love and became a landmark for the valley below to admire. 

Our story the Fist Home on the Hill 

Our story begins at 1609 Otter Creek Road in Nashville, Tennessee, the site of the first home constructed on the hilltops of Forest Hills. Built in the early 1960s by Glenn and Stella Waters, this residence represented both architectural ambition and personal devotion. Elevated above the valley, the house quickly became a recognizable point of reference—an early landmark that symbolized the growth and character of the community below.

Our story the Fist Home on the Hill a landmark the valley looked up to in spirit

This is where everything starts: 1609 Otter Creek Road, Nashville, Tennessee—my family’s home, the first to crown the hill above Otter Creek. In the early 1960s, my parents, Glenn and Stella Waters, built it with their own hands and their whole hearts. It wasn’t just a house; it was a promise, a place of warmth and welcome, a landmark the valley looked up to—literally and in spirit.

About us

Long before Forest Hills became dotted with estates and winding driveways, there was a single ridge rising above Otter Creek—untouched, unclaimed, and waiting for a vision. That vision belonged to Glenn and Stella Waters, who saw not just a hill but a future neighborhood. They named it Waterswood Heights, a place where seven homesites would eventually stand, each one was an architectural masterpiece in planning, and showcased the belief that families deserved room to breathe, to grow, and to look out over the world rather than up at it.

What “a place to call home” Love meant a happy childhood on that hill

A place to call home at 1609 Otter Creek Road is more than an address, — it’s the beginning of a story that shaped a hill, a family, and a whole little world overlooking the valley below. Here I given enough pieces over time that the phrase now carries weight: it’s the summit of Waterswood Heights, the first light on the ridge, the house my parents built with their own hands, and the place where dogs ran across the lawn and the seasons turned around you like a slow, familiar wheel.

  • A first-of-its-kind home — the very first house to rise above the valleys of Forest Hills, daring to stand where no one else had yet built.

  • A landmark — visible from below, admired by neighbors, a quiet beacon catching the last Tennessee light.

  • A family creation — Glenn and Stella Waters shaping not just a house, but a whole subdivision, seven homes strong, carved into the hillside.

  • A childhood world — dogs on the lawn, prom photos in the yard, the maple tree to the right, the bricks warm in the sun, the shutters a soft green.

  • A memory that outlived the structure — even after the bulldozers came, the story stayed intact, carried by me.

  • A place to call home began at 1609 Otter Creek Road — the first house to crown the hill above Otter Creek, built in the early 1960s by Glenn and Stella Waters. It stood as a landmark for the valley below, a testament to their vision and devotion. This was the heart of Waterswood Heights, where seven homes rose from the hillside, each one shaped by love and craftmanship and the same hope. Though the first house itself is gone, the story remains, carried in memory, in photographs, and in the lives shaped within its walls.

 

A Family-friendly Enclave, a Small Kingdom of Brick and Timber

It all began with a simple idea fueled by a deep passion. Waterswood Heights wasn’t a subdivision in the modern sense. It was a family-friendly enclave, a small kingdom of brick and timber, where each house was placed with intention—angled toward the sun, sheltered by the trees, and connected by the winding spine of Otter Creek Road, and the private road that connected all the home.  The land itself dictated the layout: steep in places, gentle in others, always commanding a view. My parents listened to the land, and the land rewarded them with beauty.

A Place to Grow up and be Happy 

From the valley floor, the first house on the hill looked almost unreal. It rose above the treetops, catching the morning sun and holding the evening glow long after the rest of the neighborhood had gone dim. Children pointed to it from car windows. Neighbors used it as a landmark— “Turn left when you see the house up on the hill.”

There was something mythic about it, even then. A house that seemed to float above the valley. A house that watched over the road like a sentinel. A house that said, quietly but confidently, we are here.

And for decades, it remained exactly that: the beacon of Waterswood Heights, the first light on the hill, the home that defined the skyline of Otter Creek.

People in the valley below watched the progress with curiosity. A house on a hill was unusual then—almost daring. Seven houses were something else entirely. It meant intention. It meant permanence. It meant that the Waters family was building not just structures, but a community.

Together, they formed a constellation of craftsmanship, a neighborhood built not by developers but by dreamers. Each house stepped down the slope like notes in a descending scale, each one echoing the design language of master craftsmanship created—brick, shutters, clean lines, and a sense of welcome. The house was a home a place to have a childhood and grow and be happy. 

My Mother in her Kitchen at 1609 Otter Creek Road, 

My Mother in her kitchen at 1609 Otter Creek Road — warm, capable, completely at home in the space she created. The moment captured here feels like a holiday heartbeat: the wooden cabinets she chose, the double ovens she used for every Thanksgiving, the wreath and candle she set out to make the table feel festive, the apples, the trays, the little touches that made a house into a home. It isn’t just my mother cooking. It’s my mother in her place, in the home she helped build, in the kitchen where she fed her family and made holidays feel whole. It’s the kind of photograph that carries the scent of the season, the sound of the oven door, the feeling of being safe and young and surrounded by love.

The feeling this image carries

  • A woman who knew her kitchen and moved through it with confidence.

  • A holiday meal in progress — the turkey carved with care, the room full of warmth and purpose.

  • A space she shaped with her own hands, just like the bathrooms, just like so much of that house.

  • A moment of family life at Otter Creek Road that still glows decades later.

The three of us together on that patio at Otter Creek Road, the beagle puppies being held close by my sister

The memories are so strong, mother, and my sister brought back into gentle color again gives the moment a kind of quiet magic — the three of us together on that patio at Otter Creek Road, the beagle puppies being held close by my sister, and I am holding the sweet old cat she was so gentle and the French doors and brick wall warm behind us. What time has faded, the photo brings forward again: the softness in your mother’s expression, the closeness between you and your sister, the feeling of a family still whole.

A Sweet Memory of Turning Six at Home on Otter Creek Road 

It was my sixth birthday, and the world still felt big and bright and full of promise. My parents had gone all out that year — they brought home a huge German Chocolate Cake from Becker’s Bakery in Nashville, the kind of cake that made every kid in the neighborhood stop and stare. That coconut‑pecan frosting glistened under the lights like it had been crafted just for me. The party was held in the recreation room of my parents’ home, a space that always felt a little magical on days like that. The curtains were drawn just enough to let in a soft afternoon glow, and the room buzzed with the laughter and chatter of my friends — children who filled my world then, many of whom time has since carried away. I remember sitting in that big chair, the cake in front of me, the candles flickering like tiny stars. The presents were wrapped in bright paper, the air smelled of sugar and excitement, and for a moment, everything felt perfect. I was surrounded by people who loved me, in a home that felt safe, with a cake so grand it seemed to mark the occasion as something truly special. Looking back now, it wasn’t just a birthday. It was a snapshot of a simpler time — a moment when joy was uncomplicated, when friendships were easy, and when a single cake from Becker’s could make a little boy feel like the center of the universe.

A brand‑new Silver State Gray Pontiac Grand Prix gleaming in the driveway of 1609 Otter Creek Road

This scene has Stella Waters, 1970 written all over it. The moment feels like a celebration: a proud husband, a stylish wife, and a brand‑new Silver State Gray Pontiac Grand Prix from the Showroom Dealership gleaming in the driveway of 1609 Otter Creek Road. It’s the kind of gift Glenn Waters would have chosen with intention — elegant, powerful, and modern, just like the home he built and the woman he loved. The Grand Prix as a Waterswood milestone. A 1970 Grand Prix wasn’t just a car; it was a statement. Long hood, sharp lines, and that unmistakable Pontiac stance. Silver State Gray catching the Tennessee sun under those big bay windows. Redline tires giving it that sporty, youthful edge. A car that said: We’ve made it. This is our home. This is our life. In the photo, the car sits proudly in the driveway, and you can almost feel the excitement of the moment — a new chapter, a new year, a new anniversary gift that would have turned heads all up and down Otter Creek Road. The driveway under the bay windows That driveway was always a stage for life at Waterswood Heights. Family gatherings, new cars, Sunday mornings, Photos like this one — full of color, pride, and presence. By 1970, the driveway was becoming a little crowded, but in the best possible way: a sign of a growing family, a thriving home, and a life filled with motion.

It was Pure Beagle‑hound Heaven, right there on Otter Creek Road in its Golden Era

It was pure beagle‑hound heaven, right there on Otter Creek Road in its golden era. The photo radiates everything you’ve been working so hard to preserve warmth, family, the easy joy of animals underfoot, and that unmistakable 1960s Tennessee feeling where life moved a little slower and love showed up in simple ways — like an armful of puppies.

What makes this moment feel so special. The abundance of pups — a whole tumble of beagle hounds, each one a little spark of life. It feels like the kind of day kids remember forever. The brick wall and glass door — classic mid‑century Southern architecture, the kind that framed so many family stories at 1609 Otter Creek Road. The people gathered close — relaxed, bundled, smiling, as if this was just another ordinary miracle in a place built with love by Glenn and Stella Waters. The atmosphere — a snapshot of a home that welcomed life in all its forms: children, dogs, neighbors, seasons, memories.