Building Update: The Pounded Tire Foundation

Path tackles a tire.

I am happy (no, ELATED is a better word!) to report that the "pounded tire foundation", which is by far the most grueling and time-consuming part of building the dwelling, is now complete.  Yes — all 64 tires of it!  Thanks so much to Justin, Kristine, Tracie, Kris, Path, Catherine, Cindy, and Lydia for their help in this arduous work!  Now the aching tendon in my arm can rest awhile, and my flagging knees and back can take a break!  Even the woods is taking time to celebrate with oceans of leaves, thrown like red and yellow confetti, streaming profusely from trees.  I've often felt in a rush with this project, as if I am behind schedule, and yet the seasonal coming of the rains has made the pounding go more easily, helping the earth to better compact.  So, perhaps I am right on time.

Tracy:  Master tamper!

What IS a pounded tire foundation, anyway?  Just as it sounds — it is a foundation made of used and discarded tires that are pounded tightly with soil. It is an effort to build something of recyclable materials, diminishing their flow into area landfills, and to reduce the cost of building by using freely available materials (any tire servicing center will gladly provide the tires for free in order to avoid their disposal fee).  Furthermore, the tremendous thermal mass of the pounded tires (each becomes a 300- to 400-pound "brick" once thoroughly packed with soil) provides excellent stability and insulating properties.  Annie and Jay Warmke, my mentors in the building techniques I am using, report that their home, Blue RockStation, which is made entirely of pounded tires (called an "Earthship"), maintains a temperature between 60 and 70 degrees throughout the year, and that is in frosty Ohio! 

Kris handles the sledge with ease!

But what about the environmental and health impacts of using old tires in a foundation?  You're probably familiar with the foul and acrid odor of used tires — not something you want in a dwelling!  That "old tire smell" is from the photo-degradation of tires, meaning they degrade when exposed to light.  Tires in the pounded tire foundation, however, are fully covered with cob or mud-slip, and not exposed to light at all.  Tires not exposed to light never degrade (fortunately or otherwise).  In fact, tires buried in the soil have been found to ABSORB pollutants and, for that reason, are now being used in landfills to curb the flow of toxins, and in golf courses to absorb nitrate run-off from the manicured greenways (see articles "ChippingIn" and "The OffgassingNon-Issue", for example).

As I and my hardy friends have all experienced of late, building a pounded tire foundation is extremely labor intensive as it requires wielding a sledge hammer to pack the soil tightly into the rims of the tires.  Once complete, however, it makes an excellent foundation for straw bale walls, which can be raised very quickly once the foundation is complete.  Stay tuned for straw bale wall construction in the coming weeks, and for opportunities to help with applying the cub (mud-slip), a job that is a lot more fun and easier on the joints and tendons!

Building Update: If at first you don't succeed...

Bishop and ol' Bessie

 

Get the backhoe! 

What a difference a backhoe makes, and strong, capable friends!  Thirty wheelbarrow loads into "do-it-myself-ism" and my knees informed me that I'm not in my 20's anymore.  I listened (unlike in my 20's), asked for help, and Bishop and ol' Bessie came to the rescue.  This, after also realizing — painfully so in yet other ways — that my original efforts at digging a bermed foundation were all for naught in the original location due to ensuing water problems after recent rains.  Much thanks to those rains for inspiring me to move the location before doing even more work!  And thanks to Bishop's expertise and experience, a new location for the building was found, and Bessie made quick work of a raised foundation (PLUS a terraced garden, PLUS a pond!).  I've learned some valuable lessons about my limits, and made some great friends in the process!

NOW, "B is for BOX" folks — the new shape of the building — and for BACKHOE!  We're keeping it simple here on in, okay?  No more letter-shaped abodes for awhile!  I'll leave the creativity to words and not buildings (well...uh....I might want to make a bottle window, and ... er ... how about rounded doors, sculpted shelving, and...hmmm....)

Country Kitchen

Photo courtesy of Diana Rivers.

You might be wondering how I'm keeping my food in bear country.  I certainly don't keep any of it in my tent, but neither have I purchased a pricey bear vault.  I DID try the "bear bag" thing — storing my food in a critter-proof, metal-mesh bag hanging from a tree, but that proved too cumbersome.  It's okay for backpacker's quantities, but not for homesteading!

First of all, every food item I own is enclosed in a tightly sealed glass container; tightly sealed meaning tight-fitting metal lids or glass lids with hermetically sealing rubber rings.  Each time I purchase a food item from the store it is immediately transferred to such a container.  For additional protection, I store jars of especially aromatic and sweet foods in a large steel barrel with a tight-fitting lid (see black barrel left of the table in photo above).  And I keep the kitchen very clean.   All food-tainted liquids and solids go into the composting barrel.

This approach is NOT designed to withstand the strength of a bear, nor is it designed to keep food out of a bear's reach.  Rather, it is designed to prevent a bear from becoming interested in (smelling) the food in the first place.  I have a bear's favorite commodities in that barrel, including honey, jam, and nuts, and so far they haven't shown any interest.

My ultimate concern isn't the safety of my food but the responsibility I have for the welfare of these creatures.  If a bear discovers that my outdoor kitchen is the mother-lode of tasty treats, that bear will return and become a "nuisance" bear, and the danger that causes to me will require the bear's removal from it's home, and that's if someone else doesn't shoot it first.  I don't want to be the cause of that.  So I'm careful.  REAL careful.

It's easy to wonder whether or not we human beings can coexist with creatures like bears and others that can become dangerous.  I believe we can, but that coexistence requires enhanced responsibility on our part.  Behind many "nuisance" bears are human beings who really don't think that the needs and ways of other creatures are as important as their own.  I think that there are ways to handle our food and refuse that does not create nuisance bears.  Yes, it is more work, but it can allow for a much richer community of creatures than we allow for ourselves today.

Making Change

I didn't want do dig that hole in the ground, or rather — have it dug by somebody else.  I didn't want to see an ugly flat spot, denuded and bare, marking where I'll dwell.  I didn't want to drag the logs onto the pretty sunny slope or down the ailing trees.  I was hoping to leave those for the woodpeckers.  You should hear those woodpeckers!  Every morning each claims a tree with a unique sound — some higher pitched, some low — then lets loose a percussive improv of calling out and answering, each in their different tones.  It's really something to hear! 

Will they be farther away now?  Harder to hear?  That's not what I wanted.  Yet I don't want the "widowmakers" either.  That's the local name for dead branches hanging precariously from dead trees, of which there are lots this summer.

And I need a home.

I don't like changing things.  I don't like being an influence on my environment, or on people.  I was raised to weep and hide in the shadows — find a little hole somewhere and stay there.  Don't rock the boat, for heaven's sake; and better yet, be invisible.  But it appears that life is influence, and living better, influential.  To shun influence, or influencing, is to pale away, die.  So take your pick, because those are the only two options.  Take your pick.

Treetop Lost & Found?

The crows stole my car keys.  Yes, they did.  I have lost my car keys, and it's all their fault!  I placed my keys outside the tent along with several other sundry items early one morning, then zipped the door closed to remain inside awhile before walking the items to the car.

Minutes later I heard a raucous in the trees overhead, the crows squawking unusually loud and close, but I thought nothing of it, really, as I've heard their loud  commotions before.

"Oh, they've found a mouse," I thought.

Or "Oh, they're pestering a snake."

But later my keys were nowhere to be found!   Then I recalled how crows steal shiny items to decorate their nests.  Or maybe they don't think of them as decorations.  Maybe they're badges of honor, or mini-solar reflectors.  Maybe they're locator devices, helping them find their nests at night when the moonlight glances off the metal.  Who knows how a crow thinks!  But one thing is sure — they've got my keys!  What they're going to do with the attached library card, I have no idea!  And the pepper spray!  All I know is this is going to one well-armed, well-read crow, and they're already smart enough, which means I'm in big trouble here in Whisperwood and I've really got to start watching my back, because obviously THEY already ARE!!!

It HAS crossed my mind to get one of those microchips people put in dogs, attach it to a key chain I don't need, and set it outside my tent on purpose.  A-HAH!!!  Then I'll track the villains, head straight-way towards the nest of ill repute, and SPY!  Yes, and one fair morning when they're busy cackling about the airways I'll scramble to the top of that tree and retrieve my long-lost belongings, and those of other hapless victims, as well!

What treasures await, dangling from the high limb of a Loblolly Pine!  Can you imagine the loot I'll find?  Jewelry, watches, wedding rings, silver coins!  Gems from generations past lodged into the recesses of that poopy crow's nest!  Who KNOWS how long this has been going on!  They teach their young, you know.  There's a whole TREASURE TROVE of riches up there in one of those Whisperwood trees — I know it! — and it's just WAITING to be discovered! 

P.S.

I am very sad to report that I have found my keys — and pretty much where I left them.  I was very disappointed, to say the least.  I was having SO much fun conjuring crow shenanigans.  But I wouldn't put a shiny thing past them, No!  And for some reason I still can't quit thinking about that lofty treasure trove!

Building Update: Taking Shape

Saving soil for the garden.

My first step towards building my garden shed has been to pickax, rake, and shovel my way through the first six-inch layer of topsoil, roots, and rock and to wheelbarrow the soil away to a large pile by the garden.  This precious topsoil will be used in raised garden beds on the sunny slope.  With this task essentially complete I've begun to dig into the next layer of soil in order to prepare a level surface  for the foundation of the building.  Now before I say anything else I want you all to know that I did BEGIN with plans for a conventional, square structure.  BUT let's just say certain morphings occurred along the way, and now it looks like the garden shed is going to be shaped like a "B".  Yeah, that's right.  "B" for Building.  Or "B" for Barn.  Because I'm a writer, and writers need letters — BIG, BOLD letters — okay?  And because the sweat BEES (ground bees, yellow jackets, whatever) have led me into depths of wilderness communion that I do not wish to re-experience, so the garden shed must be BIG enough for my kitchen supplies so that next summer I won't go BONKERS amidst their incessant BUZZING, BOTHERSOME BALLYHOOS ever again!  But mainly it's "B"-shaped because I need to avoid BRUISING the roots of the BIG, BLACK oak tree that shades me while I work.  She's an old black oak, BURROWED through with BEETLES and ready to fall on my roof as soon as I'm able to BUILD such a thing, BUT I love her and am not cutting her down BECAUSE she is BEAUTIFUL and is enabling me to do my work even when the sun is really BLISTERING!

So, Welcome "B Abode"!  May you be filled with much joy, laughter, and BENEVOLENT BANTER!  May my life, filled to date with such inordinate, anxious striving — for work, approval, and love — be given rest, a place to "BE", simply and free, balanced and whole.

Nobody's Pussy Cat!

I THOUGHT it was a dog.  It LOOKED like a dog — medium sized, muscular, nearly the color of the leaf-strewn ground, only orangier.  It had a blocky build, squared shoulders and head, and a stubby tail about 4 or 5 inches long that wiggled some.  He, or she, was headed home, I thought, and ain't nothing sacred — a domesticated type saunterin' through my pristine wilderness plot!  But then he leapt up that tree!  A black oak.  He clamored some two or three yards off the ground and clung to the bark with glee, like he was after somethin'.  Then he somersaulted down, and repeated the whole thing again, mouth ajar and happy, like this was a game he played whenever he passed that particular spot.

I was eatin' oatmeal outside in a lawn chair, just relaxin', enjoying the mornin' air, when I realized it was a CAT I was watchin', and that it DIDN'T belong to any of the neighbors!

I gulped,  wondering "Is it really OKAY to be sitting here eating oatmeal while a very large, wild cat wanders by?"  Thankfully, after toying awhile with his favorite scratching post, he continued on his way, nonchalant and  never noting my presence at all.

Turns out it was a bobcat I saw in Whisperwood that morning.  They range widely and help control rodent populations.  Here's a great article on bobcats in Arkansas called  "Phantom of the Woodlands" if you'd like to learn more.  Don't expect ever to HEAR a bobcat.  They're silent in motion.  Look for the color of amber, moving quickly, in a line.