About 180,000 honey bees live at Black Bear Solar, which is part of Dominion Energy’s venture into agrivoltaics (using land for both agriculture and solar energy production). Supplied photo.
As part of its effort to go green, Dominion Energy is exploring the potential for honey-bee hives on solar farms through a pilot program at Black Bear Solar in Buckingham County.
In operation since 2023, Black Bear Solar covers roughly 13 acres, producing enough energy to power nearly 400 homes. The site is a small part of Dominion Energy’s expansion of solar farms, prompted by the 2020 Virginia Clean Economy Act. In line with the legislation, the power company will move to completely renewable energy sources by 2045.
“About a decade ago, we didn’t have a single Dominion-owned solar farm in operation,” says Tim Eberly, senior communications specialist. “Now, we have more than 60 solar farms around the state and they generate enough power to power more than 650,000 homes.”
For farmers, the rapid expansion of solar farms in Virginia presents potential challenges due to competition for ideal land.
Dominion started its venture into agrivoltaics—the joint use of land for agriculture and solar farms—with sheep, which are still used to help maintain grass at some solar sites in the commonwealth. By bringing in honey bees, the power company hopes to bolster the local pollinator population, and, as a result, agriculture.
Not every solar farm is a good fit for honey bees, though. Before moving forward with the pilot program, beekeeper Chuck Burden examined the area of Black Bear Solar to make sure the site could support new hives.
“These honey bees have a three-mile foraging radius, so they’re seeking out pollinator plants and crops … looking for nectar and pollen from flowers and crops they can then bring back to their beehives,” says Eberly of Burden’s work to check nearby farms for pesticides and any other harmful chemicals.
“We didn’t want to bring in these beehives and have them competing with any existing bees in that area, or existing pollinators.”
Approximately 180,000 honey bees now live on the solar farm. If all goes well, Dominion anticipates adding more hives to Black Bear Solar this spring, potentially expanding the program and other new agrivoltaics initiatives to additional sites as appropriate.
“It’s very much in the research phase right now, but … we’re looking at the prospect of pairing actual farming with solar,” says Eberly. Details of the potential program are limited as it is still early in development, but may include “a very small pilot project where we might have a row of crops or vegetables … on a solar site.”
Closer to Charlottesville, Dominion is working to establish a new solar farm at the former site of the Ivy Solid Waste & Recycling Center. No feasibility studies for any agrivoltaics programs at the site have been conducted yet, but there are plans to evaluate the location for appropriate initiatives.
For Lillian Mezey, installing solar panels on the roof of her family’s home wasn’t just about saving money—“We just care a lot about environmental issues,” Mezey says.
That’s part of the reason Mezey was so frustrated when the homeowners association that governs her neighborhood rejected her request to install the panels. Mezey, a psychiatrist at UVA, lives in Old Trail, a sprawling development just south of the Crozet town center.
Last year, Mezey had two local solar companies, Sigora and Altenergy, appraise her home for a panel installation. Both recommended the same placement—on the south-facing roof, in the front of the house.
However, the Old Trail HOA’s rules only allow solar panels on the back of the house, so it denied Mezey’s request.
Altenergy then devised an alternate layout that would produce a similar amount of energy, but it would cost 15 percent more—a $3,000 increase. “The Plan B was going to be less efficient and more expensive,” Mezey says, “so we just chose not to do it at that time.”
Mezey isn’t the only prospective solar owner in Virginia who has been stymied by an HOA. Aaron Sutch is the Virginia Program Director of Solar United Neighbors, a group that seeks to help individuals install panels through bulk-purchase programs and other initiatives. They’ve facilitated 830 solar installations since 2014.
“In every jurisdiction,” Sutch says, “we undoubtedly have issues where homeowners associations block solar installations for the people in their communities.”
Sutch feels that aesthetic concerns—that solar panels are unattractive—are misplaced. “The current state of the technology is totally different than what they may imagine,” Sutch says. “Anecdotally, we see HOAs that think solar is still what it looked like in the 1980s.”
At Old Trail, Mezey sought to amend the HOA rules. She gathered “35 to 40” signatures from neighbors, she says, and sent a letter to the property manager, Allen Billyk, requesting a loosening of the rules. That was in August.
“The first time, he said it’s under consideration, and the second and third time I checked in I just got radio silence. I haven’t heard back,” Mezey says. “Part of the frustration is that we haven’t gotten a good explanation from anybody.”
Billyk tells a different story. “It wasn’t declined,” he says of Mezey’s application.
For Billyk, Mezey’s initial proposal was an obvious breach of HOA guidelines. “If you drove by there, you would immediately see her house like wow, that doesn’t make sense,” Billyk says. “It’s just not a house set up for it. Part of these things are to protect people from themselves.”
And he says solar panel placement hasn’t been a problem for other residents of the neighborhood. Billyk wasn’t moved by Mezey’s petition, which he describes as “20 signatures in 700 houses.”
“This is the only one in the five years I’ve worked here that has become a newsworthy situation,” Billyk says.
In Virginia, HOAs are not legally allowed to ban their residents from installing solar panels outright. But they are allowed to impose “reasonable restrictions” on their placement. The code never specifies what “reasonable” means, however. “It’s really nebulous language,” Sutch says.
The Old Trail case falls into the murky zone left by that unspecific language. Matthew Gooch is a Richmond-based lawyer who works with environmental law and regulatory agencies, including HOAs.
“That’s right there in the gray area that might or might not be reasonable,” Gooch says of the Old Trail situation. “I can’t tell you for sure what a court would do there.”
Other states have more concrete guidelines. California law, for instance, specifies that an HOA-mandated change that would cost $1,000 or more would be considered an unreasonable increase on a proposed plan.
In the Old Trail case, Billyk questions Mezey’s assertion that the alternate plan—at $3,000 more—represented a significant cost increase. “When you’re investing $20,000 over 18 years, that doesn’t seem that prohibitive.”
When asked whether HOAs ever prevent residents from installing solar, Chris Poggi, the Charlottesville branch manager at Altenergy, immediately recalls Mezey’s situation.
“HOAs—they have a lot of power, man,” Poggi says. That’s especially true when they control areas as large and affluent as Old Trail. The neighborhood currently consists of more than 700 homes, and the developers hope to build hundreds more.
“It just sounded fishy all around,” Poggi says, recalling Mezey’s case.
Poggi wonders if Mezey’s Altenergy proposal was rejected because the developers have a deal with Sigora.
Billyk says that Old Trail does not have an official partnership with Sigora, although he estimates the company has done 90 percent of the solar installations in the neighborhood, and that leads to more business through word-of-mouth.
Regardless of the reason for the rejection of her proposal, Mezey feels that any resistance to solar panels is misplaced, given the current political climate and the need for sustainable energy.
“I’m less focused on my house right now and more on the idea that there’s a major development in Albemarle County where the HOA has a restriction on where you’re allowed to put solar panels, in this day and age,” Mezey says. “We talk a lot about personal choice. If somebody wants to do this, they should be able to do it.”
The east-facing rear of the house shows the simplicity of the design, large windows and balcony that connect the interior with the outdoors, and in the shadow on the lower right, the overhead door that opens to the basement gym. Photo: Stephen Barling
The couple was living in Boston when they started looking for an architect to build their house on a mountaintop in Albemarle County. It would have to be a unique design, one that meshed with their reverence for nature and rigorous commitment to personal fitness (he’s a serious hiker and outdoorsman, she’s an avid runner). Because their work lives required extensive travel and stretches of time apart, the home must also serve as a sanctuary, a place that would make them feel sheltered and safe, a haven to reconnect and reaffirm their place in the world, together. The structure would also have to feel and look substantial—not necessarily large and certainly not a McMansion, but a building with enough physical bearing and architectural gravitas to crown a prospect that commanded a vast and humbling view of nature’s grandeur.
“Harmony, comfort, healing, health—we wanted our home to promote and express these things,” the husband says. “The connection to nature is deliberate.” Photo: Stephen Barling
As for the style of the house, both the husband and wife had strong childhood memories of design and architecture that they wanted it to express. He was born and grew into his teens in Finland (his father was a university professor there). It was a place where “we thought of good design as a higher thing but also part of everyday life,” he says. “I grew up with kids across the economic spectrum, and every one of them had an Alvar Aalto piece in their house.”
The husband’s mention of Aalto is significant. He was a giant of Scandinavian design who practiced from the 1920s through the 1970s. The guiding concept of his work, on which he partnered with his wife, Aino Aalto, was design as “Gesamtkunstwerk,” which translates to “a total work of art.” In practice this meant that the Aaltos designed not only buildings but many of the objects within them, from glassware to furniture, in shapes that were biomorphic, taking cues from nature.
The wife is Virginia born and bred, a farmgirl who spent much of her youth outside. She recalls summers that included raiding the family garden, picking and eating vegetables fresh off the plants. She also remembers the first time that a work of architecture captured her imagination. It was Frank Lloyd Wright’s masterpiece, Fallingwater. “When I saw a picture of that as a kid, I thought it was the coolest,” she says.
With a stream running beneath its foundation and leading to a waterfall, one of Falling-water’s core characteristics is its integration with the site. Large stones bulge up and out of the living room floor, and at one point along the foundation, naturally occurring stone rises a foot above the floorline before conjoining with a built wall, a literal expression of the connection between the natural and manmade. This is a central tenet of both Japanese and organic architecture: harmony between humans and nature. The wife may not have consciously registered this lofty concept as a child, but Fallingwater stuck with her into adulthood.
Building materials like Pennsylvania bluestone and Buckingham County slate enhance the connection to the natural environment. The steel I-beams at the top of the wall support the green roof above the garage, which creates a canopy above the walkway. Photo: Stephen Barling
The husband began the nitty-gritty of the search in the simplest way. “I Googled ‘modern architects, Virginia,’” he says.
A few clicks later he was poring over the extensive portfolio of Richmond’s Patrick Farley, who had earned both his bachelors and masters in architecture at UVA. The husband was impressed by the clean lines and simple geometry of Farley’s work. The buildings, mostly residential, were substantial yet unpretentious, and integrated well with their sites, some wild and some suburban.
After reviewing Farley’s work with her husband, the wife emailed the architect in November 2015. He was the one and only person they interviewed for the job. Their sensibilities and aesthetics aligned, and work on the mountaintop site soon began.
Above it all
How can a home exist so close to town and yet feel so middle-of-nowhere? That’s what I wondered as I drove there on a typically hot summer day, July 3, to be precise. The serpentine driveway climbed steadily for a couple of miles that seemed like five, at least. The ascent was so steep that I feared my car would overheat, which it did, with steam pouring out from under the hood. But when I finally reached the summit and saw the house, I knew the effort was worth it.
Standing on the fresh asphalt, I felt relieved—and not just because my car hadn’t died. I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, enveloped in silence and surrounded by trees. In photographs on Farley’s website, the house looks imposing, but it’s inviting in person. The architect met me at the front door, where I kicked off my shoes (stocking feet only on the smooth wood floors) and stepped into a little foyer adjoining the dining room, immediately noticing the profusion of shiny leaves covering the vertical garden to my left, on the entry wall. I said a few words while greeting the couple and Farley. But when I looked up, I was drawn to the towering windows that form the east-facing wall, speechless. I was in a sort of trance as I backed away from the glass, turned to the right, and stepped down into the living room, scanning the mountainous horizon—again, through huge glass panes—from the north all the way to the southeast. On distant hilltops, I saw clearings around white or red dots that indicated other significant homesites, and I wondered whether if someone might be looking back at me.
“So, what is it we’re doing here?” the husband asked, perhaps a little annoyed by my wandering.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I blurted. “Let’s sit and talk.”
We took seats at the dining room table and dove in.
“We knew we wanted modern,” the husband said. “There’s Miami Vice-modern that’s cool in a Lamborghini kind of way. But we wanted something more in the direction of Scandinavian-meets-the-Pacific Northwest.”
“One of the things we were attempting to do is connect the materials inside and out,” Farley said. “That’s why you’re surrounded by mostly wood surfaces, and the glass, floor to ceiling, provides a connection to the outdoors and the big trees that you see.”
A view from above reveals the expansive green rooftops and photovoltaic panels—both of which help to make the house extremely energy-efficient. The tapered, V-shaped beams were milled from cedar, and the shape is a tip of the hat to Virginia. Photo: Stephen Barling
Those trees, stout hardwoods, were visible mostly to the north. I could see them through a rectangular window, maybe three feet high, that ran along the wall above the kitchen sink and counter. The husband confessed that he had wanted to clear those trees in order to expand the view even further. The wife smiled and shook her head slowly.
She said the trees remained, in part, to preserve the feeling that the house is embedded in the landscape, in nature. “It’s intentional—we tried to hide it,” she said.
“It’s not a triumph over nature, it’s a submission,” the husband said.
We had veered into Zen philosophy, which seemed apt.
No one spoke for a few beats. Farley took the cue.
“Acoustics are important,” he said. “The wood and other natural materials, the deep beams in the ceiling—they all absorb sound. In the Miami Vice version of modern there’s a lot of reverb. Sound bounces off the hard surfaces.”
Foundational to Farley’s architecture is “biophilia,” a rarely used term that draws from the hypothesis first promulgated by the eminent scientist Edward O. Wilson in his 1984 book of the same name. The idea rests on the notion that humans innately seek connections with nature. Farley attended a lecture by Wilson in 2003 and read the book, which the architect—like many in the profession who are dedicated to environmentally conscious design and building—adopted as a touchstone.
The design proportions, inside and out, draw upon the Fibonacci sequence, which is based on naturally occurring patterns like the arrangement of seeds in a sunflower. This is said to bring feelings of harmony and an intuitive connection with the natural world. Nice views also help. Photo: Stephen Barling
Back to the thing about sound. Wright’s Fallingwater is often cited as a prime example of biophilic architecture, even though it was built in 1939, decades before the idea surfaced. Sound is one element of the human connection to nature inherent in biophilic architecture—and one constantly hears the rush of water at the house that Wright built.
I asked the couple why they were sold on Farley from the get-go. The wife immediately mentioned the green roof that is part of the architect’s repertoire. At the couple’s house, above the garage, the expansive roof is thickly planted with sedum and other plants.
“We knew he could pull it off,” the husband said, turning to address Farley. “We just wanted you to channel your inner Wright.”
The architect and his clients smile. The husband’s comment was a good-natured jab, a lighthearted damning with faint praise, because he and his wife know that Farley’s work goes well beyond mere mimicry. The proportions of the rooms, and the built-in interior elements, such as the cherry-wood cabinetry that conceals the television and other home entertainment equipment in the family room, are based on the Fibonacci sequence, a formula invented by the Italian mathematician of the Middle Ages. The simple definition of the sequence is that each number is the sum of the two previous numerals: 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, and so on. Its application in design and architecture is more complex, but basically, it is said to produce harmonious spaces and objects, in part because it is the codification of natural phenomena. The spiraling patterns of a nautilus shell’s chambers, the seeds in the face of a sunflower, a pine cone, the growth points of a trees branches and twigs—all are physical expressions of the Fibonacci sequence.
No wall divides the television-viewing space from the rest of the interior, preserving the sense of openness and the views. Photo: Stephen Barling
“Harmony, comfort, healing, health—we wanted our home to promote and express these things,” the husband says. “The connection to nature is deliberate. There will always be something about a close connection to nature that is healing.” (I had noticed that he was walking with a slight limp; turns out he was recovering from a leg fracture sustained in a cycling accident.)
“We’re out here on 200 acres—out here among all the critters,” the wife says.
But the natural setting is just part of it. The live roof—which is technological as well as natural, because it acts as insulation and sucks carbon dioxide out of the air—is one high-tech element that makes the home “green” and energy-efficient. Geothermal wells are used for temperature control. Photovoltaic panels provide electricity.
The conversation peters out, and the day stretches into the afternoon. The couple is anticipating receiving guests and attending an Independence Day party. So, after a quick tour of the house—three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a large home-office upstairs, and downstairs a well-equipped gym, which includes an infinity lap pool—we bid one another adieu.
It has been an extraordinary visit—two remarkable people living in a beautiful home, designed with great care and purpose by an unusual (in the best sense) architect—and I am reluctant to leave. Down at the bottom of the mountain, people are rushing about, stocking up for July 4th barbecues. Up here things are quiet, and a one-of-a-kind house blends with nature. It’s not a bad place to be, even if your car overheats while getting there.
A balcony perches outside the third-floor, which is used as a meditation room. Beneath the exterior cladding, foam panels envelope the house, increasing its energy efficiency. Photo: Prakash Patel
The graphic artist, web designer, and bookbinder worked in Charlottesville for many years, running her own business. She shifted gears, taking a full-time job at a non-profit. But after a while, she wanted to get back to being her own boss, and to find a way to spend more time in the country, gardening, hiking, communing with nature, and meditating.
The south-facing roof rises up to the top of the second floor, creating an open interior space with natural surfaces including wood and locally quarried soapstone. Photo: Prakash Patel
She envisioned a minimal, modern, energy-efficient home with a studio, situated on plenty of land to grow her own food. Armed with sketches of her dream home, and a conviction to live sustainably, she called on a former client, architect Chris Hays, of Hays + Ewing Design Studio. When Hays learned what she wanted, he thought immediately of builder Peter Johnson, and the collaboration began.
“It was a very dynamic process,” Johnson says. “The client had strong ideas for the home, and Chris was quick to draw them. I’ve worked with him many times. When he draws out his plans, even in preliminary stages, he puts them into CAD so they are easy to envision.”
The client also had a nice chunk of property, 94 acres with a perfect spot to build. “It was a house to be located on top of a hill with a nice view out to the west,” Hays says. “We were looking at a smallish house, but on the other hand, she was interested in getting up high to see the property.”
All indicators pointed to a vertical space. “We went through a few ideas before we came up with something we were excited about,” Hays says. “We came up with a third floor that she could use to meditate, and also look out at the land and all of the wildlife.”
After a few design iterations, Hays and the client agreed that they’d devised a good scheme. “She said that it really felt right for the place, which is one of the greatest compliments we could get,” Hays says.
Building a modern dream home
The fundamental idea of verticality was reinforced by the client’s desire to install a radiant-heat oven that can also be used to cook. Made by Tulikivi, Finland’s largest stone producer, the soapstone-clad unit is so large and heavy that it requires its own concrete footing and foundation. It also contributes to the home’s energy efficiency. A single firing with split wood provides 12 hours of heat.
One firing of the gray soapstone oven on the first floor provides heat for 12 hours. It is beautiful but, practically speaking, largely redundant, because the house is also heated via solar power. Photo: Prakash Patel
For practical purposes, the Tulikivi is largely redundant—ample energy for heating is provided by solar panels on the south-facing portion of the roof (more on that later). But the oven is quite beautiful, a tall rectangle of mid-gray stone with a cylindrical stainless-steel flue that shoots up through the open-plan home and exhausts through the roof.
“It has emotional and psychological benefits, in terms of the warming,” Hays says. “You also have a cooking compartment up above the main hearth, which has a glass door. From the bathroom, you can see out to the oven and the flames inside.”
Hays also designed the staircase to convey heat from the first floor to the third. This provides warmth throughout the house—including the studio on the second floor—when it’s cold outside, and when temperatures climb, windows on the top floor can be opened to let heat escape.
The roof is a key element of the design, rising up to cover the second floor, flattening out, and then zigzagging down to form a porte cochere. Photo: Prakash Patel
Now, about the roof. On a conventional home, the roof may simply be a cap on a box, but here it’s a key element of Hays’ design. From the south extremity of the structure, the roof climbs at an angle to the top of the second floor; solar panels cover this part of the surface. After flattening out and reaching south, the roof drops more or less straight down, and then completes its zig-zagging journey with an L-shape that encloses the porte cochere, which also serves as the woodshed.
Viewed from the east or the west, the roof establishes the clean, modern feel of the home. The rather simple exterior finishes—horizontal red cedar siding on the east and west walls, and rectangular fiber cementpanels on the north and south—enhance this aesthetic, as do the plentiful (and large) windows.
Beneath the exterior cladding lies an envelope of thick foam slabs, which seal and insulate the structure. “We did blower and duct-blaster tests and were very pleased with the results,” Johnson says. “The house is tight.”
Inside, finishes selected by the client lend a natural feel. “I wanted to go really organic—oak floors, maple cabinetry, porcelain tiles,” she says. “The central space is all enclosed in plywood. It’s like there’s a treehouse in the center of the house. The counters are soapstone that was quarried right nearby the house.”
The client now has the country place she envisioned, with plenty of room for planting outdoors. “My mom always said two things about me: My eyes are bigger than my stomach, and I always bite off more than I can chew,” she says. “I guess that’s why I ended up with a one-and-a-half-acre orchard and garden.”
The client just added chickens to the mix (“Oh, and I have to build a coop,” she says), and she plans on getting goats and honey-producing bee hives. Her enthusiasm and energy are seemingly endless.
“It was a lot of fun working with her, because she cares a lot about design,” Hays says. “It was very much like a partnership. Peter, the builder, was also very invested to get things exactly right. We were a good team.”
When politicians need flack assistance stat, there’s one number they call: Payne, Ross and Associates. And around the beginning of the new year, Charlottesville’s public relations institution will close its doors after almost 35 years. “It’s a new vision,” says principal Susan Payne. Partner Lisa Ross Moorefield says the closing is a mutual decision, and she’ll be “exploring less structured options.”
Woodriff confirms arena deal
Hedge fund founder Jaffray Woodriff is buying the Main Street Arena, as previously reported by C-VILLE. Attorney Valerie Long says, “Our client is now the purchaser of the ice park for an entity he’s involved with.” His QIM firm is not involved in the deal, and he is not ready to talk about whether there will be an ice park in another location, says Long.
Courtesy UVA
R.I.P. Sydney Blair
Beloved UVA creative writing prof Sydney Blair, 67, died unexpectedly December 12 after being hospitalized for pancreatitis. She joined the faculty in 1986, won the Virginia Prize for Fiction for her novel Buffalo in 1991 and wrote many stories, articles and reviews for journals.
Why it’s not paying for West Main
UVA generates $4.8 billion in economic activity in this region, according to a recent study. The university has been cool to city suggestions that it pitch in on the West Main streetscape project, saying it already significantly contributes to the local economy. UVA doesn’t pay Charlottesville property taxes.
Tom Foley. Staff photo
County exec wanted
Albemarle’s Tom Foley is riding into the sunset, er, to Stafford County, to be head administrator there. Foley started in Albemarle in 1999, and succeeded Bob Tucker as county exec in 2011.
Day in the sun
“The sun is my almighty physician,” once said the ubiquitous Thomas Jefferson.
In a small room at UVA on December 6, packed wall-to-wall with people eager to celebrate the installation of 1,589 solar panels on university rooftops, President of Dominion Virginia Power Bob Blue said, “I’m not exactly sure what he meant by that.” But what he does know is that UVA is one of 10 groups participating in Dominion’s Solar Partnership Program, and once all the panels are installed atop Ruffner Hall and the University Bookstore, they will generate 364 kilowatts of energy—or enough to power 91 homes.
Bright future
965 panels, which could power the equivalent of 52 homes, are already installed
Students and Dominion will study the energy pumped back into UVA’s grid
The school’s 2008 Delta Force sustainability program reduced energy usage in 37 buildings, saving $22 million in energy costs so far
Steak of America
When Bank of America closes its branch doors downtown in February, it leaves a grand 1916 building in its wake that will house a steakhouse, according to building owner Hunter Craig. And while he declined to identify the grilled-meat purveyor, he did say it would be locally owned, not a national chain.
Also inhabiting 300 E. Main St., which began as Peoples Bank and during its 100-year history has morphed into Virginia National Bank, Sovran Bank and NationsBank before Bank of America, will be…another bank. “Not Virginia National Bank,” specified Craig, who sits on the VNB board of directors.
Other as-yet-undisclosed tenants will lease office space in the building.
Quote of the week
“Plaintiff threatens to set a dangerous precedent for news organizations and those who rely upon them for accurate up-to-the-minute news throughout the country.”—Brief filed by eight news organizations in support of Rolling Stone’s motion to overturn Nicole Eramo’s $3 million judgment
Correction 12/19: Sydney Blair’s age and date of death were both wrong in the original version.
