Building Update: Room with a View

Windows installed on south side facing the garden.

Framing of front door.

Ever kept a dream you didn't know you had?  A dream so big you never dared bring it to the fore of your mind, so certain you were it could never, ever happen?  I've had many dreams like that, dreams I uncover only after realizing they're finally coming true before my very eyes.  It's not like the dreams were not circling inside my head before; it's just that their presence is hard to acknowledge amidst strangling feelings of impossibility.  My new dwelling, shown in the recent photo above, is one such dream.  See the windows, good ones like Diana told me to get.  And the rounded doorways, just like I wanted.  There's three of them in this small dwelling: the front door, and entrances to the decks for outdoor sleeping and the outdoor kitchen (not built yet).  Mind you, all the plywood is temporary.  It will be replaced by straw bale walls eventually.  Note the fine metal roof!

After Phil, Don, and John finished the framing of the windows, it took me a full week to venture forth and try them out, pushing the sashes up and down, moving the sliders — so fearful I was that something wouldn't work correctly, so sure something might break or otherwise curtail this dream-coming-true before my very eyes.  But no, they worked perfectly, and in the reflection of the large picture window that faces my garden on the sunny slope, I saw my eyes begin to tear, because I was, and am, so deeply happy with this vision slowly, amazingly, unfolding before me.

Out of Control

The problem with building by hand is that when the hand wears out, the building stops.

"I'll be working my butt off" I told a friend this spring, regarding the vast amount of work I needed to accomplish this summer.  There's the rock work around the foundation, which entails mixing cement — by hand.  There's staining of the rafters, sifting of the soil, cutting cedar for the roof supports, and hauling gravel for the floor.  I've eagerly embarked on all of these things, and ended up working off my butt and my arm, as well.  I strained a muscle or ligament near my right elbow, and now must ice it daily, and give it some good rest.  This has been a disconcerting turn of events, considering how much I think I'm supposed to accomplish this summer before another chilly winter sets in.

I've been filled with great anxieties about it.

I've GOT to get the straw bale walls up!  I've GOT to set the floor!

or ELSE!

Or else what?

Or else I'll rent a place for winter?  Or room awhile with a friend?

No big deal.

This building of a home is a longer procedure than I'd imagined, and I'm slowly learning, by inches and by squeaks, to let the process flow.

I'll do the best I can, come what may is proving a much more livable approach to living in the wilds, and building up a home.

This hasn't been easy, this new approach to days.

I have a workaholic past.  The first time I tried to take a weekend off from work was nearly fifteen years ago.  I felt so ill with anxiety I had to return.  It was a Saturday afternoon.

I was afraid something wouldn't be accomplished that should be accomplished that would gravely impact the entire project, like my efforts and solely they are in control of every outcome.

I've learned differently since.

And I'm learning still that I make much more progress, and get much more out of life, by being open and sensitive, than by being in control.  By some intriguing application of celestial relativistic principles to the waves inside my brain, I seem to get much farther by slowing down than by speeding up.

And it makes the ride so much more enjoyable!