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Vaughn Custom Homes

Our story

“Do it right or don't do it at all.”

Three generations of hard work. It started on a homestead in Oregon with a farmer who built houses because he loved it, and a teacher who made sure all four of their children finished college. Working hard was all they ever knew. A hundred years later, we're building custom homes the right way in the Texas Hill Country.

Where it starts
Malin, Oregon
Aaron's first home
1994
Generations building
Three

Generation one

Grandpa Earl Wilson built his town by hand.

“The love of building homes came early for me. My grandfather, Earl, was an original homestead builder and lifelong family farmer. With land that came from their family's government land grants, a young Earl and his brothers — Hab and Lee — helped build their small town before settling into the farming life.”

This was before plywood was readily available. Before drywall existed. Everything was built by hand — hand saws, hand-hammered. They milled and dried much of their own lumber.

Farming was how Earl raised his family, but building houses was his passion. “He instilled that passion for homebuilding in me, along with his rigorous work ethic. My dad was a contractor, but it was my grandfather who instilled in me a love for building homes and working hard.”

Vintage photograph from the Vaughn family archive, from Earl Wilson's homestead-building years
From the Vaughn family archive. The farmhouse Earl built by hand for his own family in Malin, Oregon, where Aaron spent childhood summers.
Aaron as a small child held by his grandfather Earl at a kitchen table, sharing a glass of water, photographed in May 1964
Aaron with his grandfather Earl, May 1964. The man who instilled the passion for homebuilding.
Aaron as a baby sitting on his grandmother Edith's lap in an armchair, photographed in May 1964
Aaron with his grandmother Edith, May 1964. She taught every grade in a one-room schoolhouse.

The harder worker

Grandma Edith taught every grade in one room.

“In retrospect, I think my grandmother worked even harder. Grandma Edith was an all-grades teacher in a one-room schoolhouse — think Little House on the Prairie — and education was very important to her.”

All four of their children became college graduates, thanks in part to Edith's relentless tenacity.

“I doubt either one would've called it sacrifice, though. Grandma and Grandpa were young during the Great Depression. Being able to raise a family was a blessing they didn't take for granted.”

Malin, Oregon

Wilson Rd is not a coincidence.

A green Wilson Rd street sign above a stop sign at a rural crossroads outside Malin, Oregon, with a wood-and-wire fence, dry grass and rimrock behind it
Wilson Rd, at a crossroads outside town. Grandpa Earl was Earl Wilson — the name is still on the street signs.
The painted metal town sign reading Welcome to Malin, Established 1909, Oregon, surrounded by autumn foliage
Malin, Oregon. Established 1909, population 741.

“I must admit, there is something special about driving back to Malin, Oregon — population 741 — and seeing all the streets that are named after our various family clans. The last time I drove through Malin was in the summer of 2016. I returned to this sleepy town while on a nostalgic fishing trip nearby.”

“I remember thinking that this might very well be the last time I make it back here. I got a little teary as cherished childhood memories came flooding back — at an age when I could finally appreciate their significance.”

“Grandpa Earl died while I was in college. He never saw the man I became — the adult he helped mold.”

Earl's white farmhouse in Malin, Oregon, with gable dormers and a steep roof, beside a detached garage with a failing roof, photographed from the road in 2016
The farmhouse Earl built for his own family, photographed on that 2016 visit — the same house Aaron is sitting in front of in the family photograph earlier on this page.

The place had aged. The original barn is gone. The detached garage is still standing, but nobody has kept after it, and it shows.

That garage is worth a second look all the same. Earl built a small living space into it — the thing every builder now calls an accessory dwelling unit and discusses as though it were a recent idea. He did it close to ninety years before the term came into use, on a working farm, because somebody needed somewhere to live. The house itself has barely changed.

Where the plans come from

The house Earl built is where our plan collection starts.

Malin is where the family settled, and it is where Earl helped build a town of farmhouses, including one for his own family. Aaron spent childhood summers there. It went up the way everything went up out there then: by hand, from lumber Earl and his brothers milled and dried themselves. No plywood. No drywall. A house built that way has to earn its looks from how it is put together — the pitch of the roof, the depth of the porch, the run of a board — because there is nothing applied over the top to fake it.

That house is the reason the plan collection looks the way it does. Every plan in it is a Modern Farmhouse. Big covered porches, plain gabled elevations, and the square footage spent on the rooms a family actually lives in. The names on the plans come from plants that grow here in the Hill Country. The shapes come from Oregon. None of it was pulled off a trend board.

One thing gets misread the moment a style has a name, so here it is plainly. The collection is Modern Farmhouse. The business isn't — we build what you want. A Hill Country ranch, something contemporary, a stone cottage, a set of drawings your own architect finished last month. Aaron builds what a client asks for, and our designers draw from scratch when none of the plans is it.

What actually came down from Malin is not a roofline. It is how Earl worked: mill it true, hang it true, stand behind it after the family moves in. That part applies to a farmhouse and to anything else you want built, and it is the one thing here that never changes with the style.

See the plan collection

Generation three

I lost money on my first house.

“I took a lot of winding roads through many different career paths before I built my first home in 1994. I lost money on that house but gained a lot of wisdom — and I had a blast! The seed was planted. Eventually, I found business partners and started three different homebuilding companies along the way.”

“Those companies built hundreds of houses, which taught me great lessons about managing teams and the economies of scale. But it's a different world now.”

“Whether it's a ‘spec’ or custom home, I build each one like it's for my own family, so each home gets the personal attention it deserves.”

A two-story house with blue lap siding, twin gabled dormers and a two-car garage with the house number beside it, set among tall evergreens
The first house Aaron built, in Washington State in 1994 — the one he lost money on. He built it as Wilson/Vaughn Construction, Inc., the first of his three companies, named for his grandfather Earl Wilson. He photographed it on a visit in 2023, nearly thirty years and several owners later. It is still standing, and still somebody's home — with the same house number by the garage that is typed on the permit below.
Pierce County, Washington residential building permit issued to Aaron Vaughn on 5 July 1994 to construct a two-story, three-bedroom house
The permit for it. Pierce County, Washington, issued 5 July 1994: two stories, three bedrooms, 860 square feet down and 660 up, with a 442 square foot garage. Total valuation $77,185.94. The permit fee was $540.50. The street address on it is the same number you can read above the garage in the photo. Only the parcel and county records numbers are blacked out. The contractor line reads Wilson/Vaughn, Inc.
My knowledge is your power.
Aaron VaughnBuilder and owner, Vaughn Custom Homes

What it means for you

Three generations of standards, on your lot.

Earl's standard was set when there was no plywood to hide behind and no drywall to smooth things over. That is still the bar here, and it shows up in three very practical ways.

01

No model home, no sales floor

“We don't have a traditional model home — our ‘model’ is the home we're currently building. We don't have a huge staff or fancy videos or commercials.” What you get instead is the builder himself, on your job site, answering his own phone.

02

A vetted bench, not a big staff

“We do work with very talented designers and craftsmen. Our vendors, mechanical trades, and subcontractors are carefully vetted, too.” The list is short on purpose — these are people whose work Aaron has already stood behind.

03

Problems get owned, not buried

“It's construction. Things happen. But we plan carefully to minimize problems before they happen and own up to them when they do. More importantly, we take care of them.”

“No home is perfect, nor could it ever be. But we'll never stop trying to get there. That's my story. What's yours?”

That's my story. What's yours?

We'd be honored to be a part of your story.

If you're curious about having my team build your Canyon Lake area custom home, let's chat. No model home to walk, no pressure — just a conversation about what you want to build.