Moving

I've moved my blog to a new (and exciting) location.

Head update

The concept of the 6 1/2 by 6 foot house had been floating gently in the back of my mind since earlier in the summer. As of last week, I find my brain space being consumed! The 6 1/2 foot dimension is based upon the length of my sleeping body (plus a bit of extra wiggle room). As I look at the carpet squares in my sister's apartment (20 inch squares), it occurs to me that I could actually get away shaving off some square footage - 60 by 80 inches appears sufficient.

This would be a house for me to live in for just a year. Here is what I think will fit: a sink, food preparation/cooking space, seating for 3, enough floor space to sleep, storage space (kitchen stuff, books/writing supplies, clothes), and a small Rumford fireplace. I have decided that it is (arguably) impractical to also squeeze in a shower and toilet. Instead, these functions will have to be available right outside the house - in winter, I'll enclose them, greenhouse-style.

I plan to start building in Spring. Up until that point, I see myself wasting huge chunks of my time in further planning of this tiny dwelling. I expect it to be especially cute because it will appear so awkwardly unbalanced in its height-to-width ratio. It will also feel very den-like because of its small volume in contrast to its massive 18-inch-thick mud walls.

I finally have a new camera, and am heading back to the cob cottage tomorrow to take exciting new photos.

Shelving visitors

I had a feel good week at the cottage site, and was thrilled to have Elaine (sister) and Ian (nephew) come visit and see what I had accomplished. It was an inspired 5 days. I didn't actually get much done in terms of preparation work for plastering, because I was too busy building things that were never in the plans.



A saw a piece of slate sitting around, and thought it would make an adequate bedside table. Margaret (the future dweller) commented that she much prefers a two-tiered bedside table so that she can store her current reads on the bottom shelf. After a bit of searching, I came across a matching piece of slate. I "cobbed" them into the existing wall, but needed some support on the suspended corners. Here was my chance to use roundwood. After shaving off the bark, planing down the knots, chiseling out the notches, and drilling holes for the horizontal roundwood braces, the support post was ready to perform its function.

I was happy with how the peg joint turned out.



I found a nice forked length of roundwood to use as a hanging support for this shelf, which will be above the end of the bed.

A fantastic space to store books, or little boys. Notice, also, the new little niche carved into the wall near the tall, vertical window. This will be a good place on which to perch a candle, or a statue, or glasses during sleep.





Here is Ian, in his hunter-gatherer mode, collecting stray chunks of dry cob.


I've spent a bit of time every day thinking about how I might go about creating a door to fit into a very strangely-shaped opening. The problem was that there are bumpy foundation stones along one side of the door opening, a bumpy threshold stone, and a curved top arch. To build a door that would swing shut into this negative space and still keep out drafts was an overwhelming thought. After 5 days of letting the problem marinate in my mind, I gave up on the near-impossible, and decided to retro-fit the cottage entrance with a wooden door-frame.

The horns at the top of the frame are integrated supports that perform two functions: they add extra strength to the frame, and create a support structure upon which a shelf will go. This way, when Margaret slams the door, everything on the shelf has a good chance to come crashing down on her head. Notice the 3 "deadmen" attached to the right vertical of the door frame. Deadmen (usually gnarly tree branch cut-offs) are used to secure something into a cob wall, in this case the door frame. The more strangely-shaped and gnarly they are, the better - they'll have more "tooth" (grip) into the cob. I used a hammer to chisel out the cubbies in the wall into which the deadmen are places. Then I screwed the door frame onto them.

Below, I have begun to bury the deadmen (you see where the term comes from) in cob. The pieces are bamboo are in place to keep the door frame evenly-spaced and plumb while the cob dries (at which point it won't budge an inch).




Pull-up.


I like how the shelving looks with things actually shelved on it. You can see the stove pipe entering the building near Ian's head.




Eventually, the little boy escaped, and we all went home.

I'll be back on site tomorrow, getting serious about plaster prep. Next weekend, we'll host a "plaster party" to coat the interior walls, and the following weekend will be the party for the exterior. If everything goes super-smoothly, we might get the floor poured in the between week.

still standing

I'm back in North Carolina. As I got closer and closer to the state, my hungry anticipation at seeing how the cottage withstood a lonely summer grew unbearable. Come and feast, as I have feasted:

Not such a lonely summer after all! I learned that these pipe-shaped mud formations are the nests of the harmless, humble (and talented) Mud Dauber Wasp. These strange little creatures sting a certain kind of spider, fly the dead spider body up to a potential nest site, and proceed to build these little clay pipes around the spider. Then they lay eggs in the spider's dead body. Each pipe is actually a series of compartments (like bamboo), each compartment representing one egg-filled spider carcass. I find the nests to be terribly beautiful, and rather appropriate for a cob cottage. It leads me to wonder whether one might be able to organize these mud daubers in a great enough force to build cottages for human use.



In general, everything looked great. There were no signs of water damage (a punctured roof membrane or seepage in through the North wall was my biggest summer worry). Everything looks dry and solid. Give swords and a year's time to one thousand warriors and see if they can crack those walls.





I really like how the built-in shelving unit looks, regardless of whether Mike thinks my waist-height sculptural details mimic urinals. The bottom three shelves will remain as exposed bamboo. The top three shelves are ugly lumber that will be covered up with earthen plaster when we plaster the interior walls.

The sub-floor looks and feels better than I ever could have imagined, considering how wet and expediently An and I slapped it down in June. It has a cracking pattern that matches where our screed boards were (the boards that allow a builder to ensure that a floor is level as it is poured), but the cracks aren't big enough to be a worry.



The green roof held up pretty well. Transplanting the living community of plants in June - right as the hot North Carolina summer was beginning - wasn't the best timing. The plants got hit hard with heat and drought before they were able to take over and flourish. Luckily, 50% of the surface area is still covered by the hardiest of the hardy. As fall approaches, I expect that cooler temperatures + rain will give us our green.



The way that light dances so softly around that window...



peek-a-boo!



The Rumford Fireplace is still alive and well, with its white god-rock aloft the highest flame-tower.



Today I started gathering the purest clay I could find - this will be used for plastering, and for the finished floor. Luckily, we have (at least) two colors on the property. I think the lighter shade will work well on the interior (to brighten up the space with natural light). That bright orange-red is going to make for a gorgeous exterior plaster.



The longer the clay gets to soak in water, the better the quality of plaster. I'll stir this mixture every morning, and it will be creamy and perfect by the time plaster party day arrives.

It's always comforting to return to the earth.