When we moved into our home in Greenwood Village, I thought the inside was everything I had ever wanted. It was polished, thoughtfully designed, and full of natural light. But I was wrong to think that the outside would somehow come together on its own. Our yard was disjointed. The patio felt too small, the grass patchy, and the existing beds were filled with plants that didn’t seem to belong together. Something was missing. It wasn’t simply beauty—it was cohesion. We wanted a yard that invited us outside, a place where we could entertain, unwind, and feel proud of what we had built.
I knew I needed help, but I didn’t want to choose blindly. Before I even opened my laptop to search for luxury outdoor living in Greenwood Village, I picked up the phone. Over the course of two weeks, I spoke with five friends and colleagues whose outdoor areas had left an impression on me. Each conversation shaped the questions I asked and the expectations I carried into this process.
My first call was to Marcy, my closest friend since college. We met in our dorm lounge our freshman year at CU Boulder. She’s now a successful interior designer and lives just a few blocks away. Her backyard is spectacular—defined by subtle elegance. The patio is shaded by a white oak pergola with gauzy curtains that catch the wind. A low water feature bubbles gently in one corner, and a circular fire pit anchors the other. When I called her, she laughed and said, “I knew you’d want to redo your yard eventually.”
Marcy’s advice was simple but profound: “Don’t rush the design. Let it evolve. A good designer will interview your lifestyle before they draw a single line.” She told me her designer had spent an entire afternoon walking her property, watching the light, asking about where she had her morning coffee, how many guests she hosted in summer, even whether her kids played sports. “That’s the difference,” she said. “That’s why it feels like a sanctuary, not a showroom.”
Next, I texted Brian, a former colleague who recently retired and moved to Greenwood Village with his husband. I had visited their home last fall and was blown away by their yard’s seamless connection between indoors and out. Their living room opened onto a raised deck with built-in seating, a grilling station, and a long dining table under string lights. From there, a series of tiered steps led down to a modern patio with a sleek gas fire feature and a spa tub tucked behind a screen of evergreens.
Brian responded almost immediately. “We interviewed five companies,” he said. “Most of them showed us the same Pinterest boards and prefab ideas. Only one firm asked us what we *felt* when we thought of our dream yard.” That firm won their business. Brian warned me to stay away from companies that offer quotes in under an hour. “You’re not buying a fridge,” he said. “You’re commissioning art.”
The third friend I spoke to was Jasmine, from my daughter’s school PTA. We became close after planning the school’s spring fundraiser together, and she has an impeccable eye for style. Her backyard is a blend of modern and cozy—think polished concrete, curved lounge furniture, and overhead shade sails. But her experience came with some hard lessons.
“I got caught up in the pretty renderings,” Jasmine told me. “The designs were stunning, but the execution was sloppy.” The first company she hired overpromised and underdelivered. Halfway through, they abandoned the job, and she had to hire someone else to fix it. “Vet their past work. Call their references. And make sure their project manager is someone you trust,” she said.
My fourth conversation was with Carl, my neighbor across the street. We’ve known each other for about five years and have swapped everything from gardening tools to home renovation tips. His yard is understated and incredibly inviting. “I kept things simple,” Carl told me. “But I focused on materials. Real stone, high-quality lighting, durable wood. Don’t let them talk you into composite everything. It doesn’t age well.”
Carl also emphasized maintenance. “It’s not just about how it looks when it’s done. Ask about upkeep. Ask what the plants will look like in year three, not just week one.” He shared how his first landscape install failed because the company didn’t consider root space for the trees. “I had to tear out three maples that looked great on paper. It still makes me mad.”
The last person I called was Katrina, from my church group. She and I have been part of the Wednesday night circle for over a decade. She’s warm, funny, and always the first to bring flowers to someone who needs cheering up. Her yard is a personal favorite of mine. It’s not massive, but it feels generous. There are levels to it—nooks for reading, a fire table surrounded by Adirondack chairs, and an open patch of grass for her grandkids.
Katrina’s advice surprised me. “Think about your senses,” she said. “What do you want to hear, smell, feel?” She talked about how she chose plants that bloom at different times of year, a water feature with a gentle rhythm, and lighting that shifted tones throughout the evening. “Your yard is an experience, not a checklist.”
Those five stories anchored me. So when I finally searched for elevated landscaping in Greenwood Village, I wasn’t looking for the cheapest or the flashiest. I was looking for a firm that asked the right questions.
The company I chose did exactly that. They started with a consultation that lasted nearly two hours. They toured the property with me, asked about drainage, shade, privacy, and lighting. They sketched while we talked and then came back a week later with three distinct concepts—all of which were beautiful, but one stood out. It included a covered pergola with retractable panels, a gas fire table, and built-in seating carved from Colorado sandstone. The patio would be tiered, creating visual interest and function. Lighting would be layered: soft pathway glows, overhead fixtures, and recessed lights in the stonework.
Over the next several months, I watched the transformation unfold. The crew was meticulous. They protected my trees, cleaned up daily, and walked me through each phase. There were hiccups—delivery delays and a permit holdup—but the team communicated clearly, and the project manager, Sarah, was exceptional.
Now, our yard feels like part of the home. The pergola is where I take calls during work-from-home days. My daughter has friends over for s’mores. My spouse and I unwind with a glass of wine as the lights warm the evening air.
If you’re considering investing in luxury outdoor living in Greenwood Village, my advice is simple: start with your people. Listen to the stories. Look at their yards. Ask questions. Then find a firm that listens as well as it designs. Because a yard this good doesn’t happen by accident. It’s built from trust, time, and a shared vision for what home really means.