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Wednesday, February 26, 2014

The Move: Part 4 (Surprise!)

Wholehearted House is home!

When we failed to move the Wholehearted House a couple of weeks ago, I resigned myself to moving her in the spring. I was disappointed, sure, but it wasn't the end of the world. I don't have to move out of my current rented home until May 31, so I felt I had lots of time to get an alternative sorted. 

Moving her in the spring would be more awkward, and less pleasant than having her moved by Adam, but Adam is going away and that was an end to it. I remembered to accept the things I cannot change and let it go. 

And then, today, as I was driving home from town (where I did mundane things like visiting the osteopath and getting a rock chip in my windshield repaired), I received a text message from Adam, informing me that he had been to inspect the driveway at Pennybrook and thought there was adequate traction to move the house and would I like to?

Yes!!!!!!!!!! I replied, with about that many exclamation marks. 

And so, at about 2:45 today, Adam arrived in West Dublin, towing my tiny home from her previous location in Green Bay.


As you might remember from The Move: Part 1, there were several challenges to face on the way up to the tiny home's new home. The first was a sharp curve in the lower stretch of the driveway. Adam approached it slowly and tried three times to find a good angle that would keep the trailer's wheels away from the ditch, but the curve was inflexible. In the end, we inched along and counted on the delicate strength of these stems to hold the wheel on the road – and they did!


The next big challenge was coming up the final stretch of hill. There was a big rock that the trailer rose up on – after it had almost bottomed out, coming within 1/4 inch of the rock!


And, then, there was a low branch to clear. Scratch, scrape, snap! We lost a small branch, but we made it through with the chimney intact and in place. 

A little maneuvering at the top of the hill and we got the trailer facing south(ish) and pointed at the Pennybrook festival stage. (See the giant awning waiting to be unrolled? There is going to be some sweet VIP seating there this summer)


I had my very first hands-on experience with a jack today as Adam and I jacked 'er up and got 'er level. We assembled the stove and stove pipe and she is good to go. 

I want to move in to Wholehearted House RIGHT NOW, but I have too many work commitments that will keep me tied to my Internet connection and on-grid electrical connection for a couple more months. Plus, I have to sort all of my belongings and prepare to part with about 75% of them. 

Stay tuned for info about my giant sale and music show on April 26th at the West Dublin Hall when I will sell off all of my unwanted belongings!

Wednesday, February 19, 2014

The days are long, but the weeks are short

Does this happen for you, too – that you notice that your experience of time is completely relative?

I find that my days usually feel long and by that, I mean they feel full of moments, sensations, memories (new ones being created, old ones being remembered), thoughts, feelings and generally being fully alive.

But, at the this time of year, the days feel loooooong. I get stacked up with desk work and work 8-, 10-, 12- and even 14-hour days. Sometimes my days are full of so much work for so many different clients that by the end of the day that I can hardly remember what I did at the beginning of the day.

And yet, the weeks are short. It's already the third week of February. Almost my birthday. And the back of winter – this terrible, stormy, miserable winter – is broken. I can feel it, in the increase in rain storms over snow storms and the increased frequency of warmer days over colder days.

And it's a good thing too. My stock of wood is running short and so is my temper.
The ever-shrinking and very snowy woodpile.

Friday, February 7, 2014

A Little Banjoy: Rising Appalachia - Remember What You Told Me

It's been a while since I posted some banjo music for you all. These folks were recommended to me by Adam Kirk, who created my Tiny Home.

Rising Appalachia are amazing – love the blend of banjo with beat boxing and hand drums. SO GOOD! Enjoy!

Wednesday, February 5, 2014

The Move: Part 3 (In which the Wholehearted House does not move)

#movefail

We couldn't move the tiny home today, either.

Everyone pitched in yesterday to try to clear the driveway and there was a decent freeze last night, but there was too much snow and hard-packed ice – and not enough traction.

Fortunately, we were sensible enough to realize the futility of the task at the outset and didn't even try to move the house. If the truck alone was going to spin out on the hill, there was no way it could make it up hauling the trailer.

With two more feet of snow currently falling, the project of moving the house has been postponed to an undetermined future date.

I was so excited. And now I am understandably disappointed. However, I'm on a pretty even keel, after working through a lot of my worries and vulnerability over the past couple of days.

My sense of proportion is intact. This is just a small set back. Wholehearted House will get moved, eventually, one way or another.

And I wasn't planning to move myself into the house until April or May, so I still have lots of time.

This is the first drawback I've encountered with the tiny house. A conventional house generally comes with a piece of land, but a tiny house often needs to find a location and be moved there. I've been lucky enough to be invited on to the land of some good friends, but getting the house there, especially in winter, is another matter.

On a brighter note

My disappointment was soothed by a visit to Wholehearted House in its current location. It's looking wonderful (why didn't I remember to take pictures?) and I believe it's going to suit me down to the ground once I get it moved and get moved in.

I've contracted Adam Kirk, the fellow who did such an amazing job on the conversion and sold the tiny home to me, to make a few additions. He's built a tiny-perfect closet and several beautiful shelves since my last visit. We also did some more orientation today, including a lesson on how to lower and raise the massive awning that extends out to one side.

It may not be up on its hill yet, but I can already picture it there on a bright, sunny, summer day, awning extended, breeze blowing through all the windows and me lounging out front takin' 'er easy.

Ah, let the winter storm winds howl – I'm staying in that summer day for just a little while longer...

The Move: Part 2 (in which I shovel snow and name my house)

Well, we couldn't move the house yesterday.

It didn't get cold enough on Monday night to freeze the driveway solid and we weren't prepared to attempt it if there wasn't a reasonable prospect of success.

It's a tricky thing: a single lane of long, curvy driveway where there are only two options: make it to the top to deliver the trailer and turn the truck around in the field or get stuck and back the whole way down. With a 35-foot trailer hitched behind an 18-foot-long truck.

Not for the faint of heart.

But I really, really, really want to get her in place. The fellow who's agreed to tow her for me is going away in a couple of weeks, and it's not going to get any drier or more solid up there until after the spring when we can get some work done on that stretch of driveway.

So, yesterday afternoon, some friends and I got together to shovel all the snow and ice we could out of the path, in the hopes that frozen dirt will be more solid than a mix of frozen snow and ice and dirt.

It's minus 5 degrees (Celsius) now and has been most of the night (and yes, it is 4 in the morning, I couldn't sleep) so hopefully there is something resembling a good solid road on that hill.

If you pray, please say a little prayer for us. If you're a sender of good vibes, please send them our way.

Uncertainty can be stressful

Meanwhile, I've been feeling a little stressed. It's hard to live in a state of the unknown, especially when the unknown outcome is close to one's heart. It stirs up a lot of vulnerability for me.

I've been trying to stay calm and happy. I know she'll get up there one way or another, now or in the spring. Knowing that doesn't always help, though.

So, rather than trying to pretend that I wasn't having any feelings, I put some energy into thinking about vulnerability and uncertainty, and since I know that I love the way Brené Brown talks about those things, I looked up this TED talk and watched it again. I hope you have 20 minutes, because I would like to share it with you. It seems to me to contain a simple recipe for how to live a good life, a whole-hearted life in the face of uncertainty and vulnerability (which, let's face it, crop up for a lot of us, often):


This is part of what this tiny home is about for me – shaking off the numbness of being stressed out by debt and feeling weighed down by my stuff – to take a calm, reasonable approach to living, to find a bit of discipline in a simpler life and to become more fully alive – through working harder for my necessities and being responsible: to the earth, to my heart and to my peace of mind.

This period of struggle has given my house a name

My friend, Danette (brilliant creativity coach at The Radical Creative Sanctuary), asked me yesterday if I ever name my dwellings. I never have before. I've lived in houses with names, back in my uni residence and Campus Co-op days: McCaul House, Lowther House, Savage House, and a house we called Six-Twelve.

Through the process of the past couple of days, my thoughts on Brené Brown's research and Danette's insightful question, I'm moved to name my house and I think I've found the perfect name for her: Wholehearted House.

Monday, February 3, 2014

The Move: Part 1


We went up to the Tiny Home's proposed location today to do a site inspection. 

The view from the bottom of the driveway. Pretty, hunh?

I was very excited this morning about the prospect of moving the home tomorrow, but I'm afraid the driveway does not look conducive to getting the house up there. 

We've had a very wet winter here in Nova Scotia, with lots of snow and rain, and it's been warm the last couple of days. The last stretch of the driveway is pretty sloppy and even without towing the trailer, the truck was having some traction problems. 

I'm still hopeful that with a hard freeze, we might be able to put it on site this week, but I'm realistically accepting the possibility that it just won't happen.

These photos will give you an idea of what we're up against:


The first stretch of driveway will be easy peasy!
Slow for the first curve...
Take the left fork...
Come up by the house (looks like no problem,
but this stretch was greasy today)


If we can make it up here, all will be good! Look how pristine it is and the sweet sound of the
brook babbling alongside made my heart flutter. (In the foreground are stumps ready
for levelling the Tiny Home and deck blocks for the deck).
We'll hope for a hard freeze tonight and will check conditions in the morning. There's only one way in or out of the property, so it's not an option to get stuck. If we don't think we can do it, we'll check conditions again on Wednesday (before the next big forecast snowstorm).

If we can't safely do it in the next couple of days, we won't be likely to get it up on site before July when things have dried out and we've gotten a chance to have a little work done on the driveway. Fingers crossed, everybody!

The chickens followed us around through most of the process.