Construction: Weeks 9, 10, 11 and 12

I have been struggling to write this blog post. It has been postponed from week to week.

I have been busy, doing a lot of manual labour out at the site and a lot of desk work the rest of the time. And these weeks have felt challenging; I have been frequently overwhelmed.

Rather than not writing a blog post about these weeks at all, I am resorting to a classic cheat borrowed from William Goldman's A Princess Bride:

What with one thing and another, four weeks passed:

I had some trouble finding someone willing to dig my well and install my septic system, but fortunately, my plumber was able to recommend someone excellent. We walked the land and he recommended the place for the well, very close to the massive felled maple log that was dropped when my power lines were installed last year. It was going to need to be cut up and moved. So, I boldly set about cutting it into shorter logs with my small chainsaw. At one point, I pinched my saw and had to free it with a hand saw. One of the joys of being a rookie... 

A rare view of the low side of the cabin.

In Week 9, the cabin was wired

Roxul insulation getting stockpiled

Week 10: Excavator, on the job!

The septic tank

The septic field

The septic system covered with fill, seeded with clover and covered with hay.

Guess what got dug up? Rocks! Now placed aesthetically along my driveway

Meanwhile, in the house, the interior walls were being insulated. 

And I drove to Ross Farm museum to pick up the barn door hardware they had made for me.

Here's the hatch for my firewood pass-through.

The excavator, resting after its labours.

I take a time-out to appreciate the beauty of a wee, still-red oak

Over the weekend between Weeks 10 and 11, the house sees its first light dusting of snow

Week 11: The well gets dug.

 They went down about 14 feet and there was so much water that the excavation crew could hardly level the first crock before the water was threatening to come in over their boots. Here is the well after the concrete apron has been poured. (The next day the water rose up over the apron!) I feel like I have won the rural home lottery! 

My awesome plumber comes and installs the well-line and pump

Bright blue well line for the water and rainbow electrical wire for the pump – pretty! 

Next, the trench was dug for the well-line. We hit a snag here, but I don't want to talk about it. Suffice it to say, we got through it. 

Guess what else got dug up? More rocks! Including some really, really big ones.

Meanwhile, I was working on augmenting the insulation around the slab, having fun with an exacto knife and a pickaxe.

And inside, the insulation and vapour barrier were complete and the drywall was delivered and stored ready for the following week.

Week 12 began with the site in a great big mess.

(Trenches can be beautiful, though).

With the trench for the well line dug and filled back in, next was the trench to bring power from my shed to the house. 

The electrical cable and the conduit containing my internet cable had to be seated in sand and inspected before the trench could be filled back in.

Where the electrical service enters the cabin.

In the cabin, the drywall was going up.

Outside, I was unearthing some pretty big rocks in the process of regrading the land around the house to lay insulation out two feet from the slab at an angle of 4 degrees (or more). Some of the rocks were too heavy for me to move. Fortunately, my stellar carpentry crew helped me roll the biggest ones out of the way.

Here's one corner of the insulation around the outside of the slab.

On the last day of the excavation work, my well and septic contractor brought me a load of Class A as a bonus – I will use it to backfill against my house, over the slab insulation. 

While putting together the photo essay portion of this post, I think I have found a few words to say. 

These four weeks felt intense. I was on-site a lot. On the one hand, it was lots of fun to be at the heart of the action. I really like all of the people working on the project, so it was great to hang out and indulge in a little banter.

At the same time, though, I was working hard: digging, digging and more digging. It was good for me, but at the same time exhausting and hard on my joints. (I've started going to see a chiropractor again after a 7-year break and it is rescuing me from immobilization).

While it was physically grueling, it didn't require any particular skills. It was a part of the job that I could do, and I needed to invest all the sweat equity that I could because somewhere in these four weeks, I ran out of money. Which is to say that I ran out of my money, money that I had or had access to on my own responsibility.

This project has been more expensive than I hoped. That is always said of building projects and that's because it's probably always true. There is so much to do, especially so much infrastructure to establish for a rural house.

Fortunately, I have friends and family to help me out and they have encouraged me to keep going. Many have provided moral support and encouragement, some have loaned tools and equipment, others have given their time to help, some have loaned and some have given me money to help make it possible for me to complete this project. I feel very, very lucky and very, very grateful.

And at the same time, I'm pretty stressed. I didn't want to take on this much debt. I foresee some austerity measures and as much desk work as I can get my hands on for the next 3-5 years.

I do feel, though, that it is worth it. I have such a longing for a home of my own. It is starting to feel very real; I am getting to the point where I can visualize living in my home: reading, doing jigsaw puzzles, having dinner parties and summer visitors. Having a place to be myself, to be content, to be free and safe and peaceful.

And what a place it is. The Crooked Wood continues to provide me with a blessed sense of belonging. Each time I arrive there and breathe that first breath of forest air, I feel something sacred fill me: mind, body, heart and soul.

The thought of being able to live in my own home, cozily, year round, is worth the debts and the stresses and the challenges of this process.

It's simply where I feel I'm meant to be.

The next BIG step (A Tiny Home/Land Development Report)

On Saturday evening, April 23, 2016, I got a call from the contractor who has agreed to install my driveway on my land. Spring weight restrictions were being lifted, he informed me (they came off at 12:01 am today to be precise) and he was willing and able to come start building my driveway this morning!

EeeeEEEeEeeeEEeeEeeeeEEeee!

SO EXCITING!!!

First thing this morning, I called the Department of Transportation to let them know that work is getting underway. And then I called my survey contractors to co-ordinate doing the septic pit test later this week, making the most efficient use possible of the heavy equipment while it's on site.

Next, I'm going over to my land to drop off a deposit on the work. I hope I will arrive in time to watch the bulldozer pull up to the site!

(I feel like a four-year-old with a passion for Tonka trucks at the moment. EeeEEEeeeEEEeeEEeeEEeEEe!)

Photos to come.

Waiting on Spring (A Tiny Home/Land Development Report)

Last night, I heard the spring peepers for the first time this year — not a full chorus, but a few bold frontrunners.

There are still predictions of snow in the weather forecast (in fact, snowflakes are falling as I write this), but I'm hopeful that there won't be any accumulation of snow. It would be great to have relatively clear sailing from here into the summer. Except of course for the inevitable season of rain and mud that passes for spring in Nova Scotia.

Not that I'm complaining. Compared to last winter, this winter has been a walk in the park. And no matter how wet and gross this spring becomes, at least it has already started. This time last year... well, don't get me started.

Now that spring is both officially and apparently here – and my biggest desk-work commitments are out of the way for another 5 months – I'm getting itchy.

I have less than a month left in my winter rental and I'm wild to know how soon I can move onto my land.

Preparation work has been continuing through the winter. More trees have been cut down. There is now a beautiful clearing letting in a ton of sunshine – as well as the fully-cleared actual (second) driveway.

I'm sad this cool stump will have to be
rooted out of the driveway.

Discussions have been happening with many and various people regarding possible construction, septic systems, wells, the driveway and electricity hook-up.

Decisions, decisions

I've had to make some major decisions this winter. 

The biggest decision I faced was whether I should try to winterize Wholehearted House (the tiny house on wheels that I bought a couple of years ago and have lived in for the past two summers) or if I should build a micro cabin.

After consulting with the fellow who created Wholehearted House (out of a 35-foot RV from the late 80s), another good friend who's a builder, my pops and others, I decided that it would not be wise to try to convert my tiny home. It is not meant to be a year-round dwelling. It's a grand (and beloved) dwelling in the summer time, when all the windows can be wide open. And it stays beautifully dry in the winter if it doesn't have a human being in it, producing gallons of moisture. But I've decided that trying to make it habitable year-round would be a misuse of funds and almost definitely a shortcut to major problems with moisture and mold.

However, I love my house and don't want to part with it. I have decided to keep it and use it in three seasons – as quiet, off-grid living/working space and as guest accommodation – or more likely, as my accommodation when I have guests, as I don't imagine all of my guests will be as happy as I am to live free of modern conveniences.

So, what about this micro cabin?

My pops, who always keeps an eye out for tiny home ideas for me, posted this link on my Facebook page a couple of months ago and I fell in love.

Isn't it adorable? Click the link in the paragraph
above to see many more photos.

Interestingly, after my mom saw these pictures, she told me that my Nana (her mom) had really, really wanted an A-frame cabin in the 60s, but ended up with a more traditional style of cottage.

There will definitely be some modifications to the design, but I think this is the general idea I'll be shooting for.

On my birthday this year, I went over to my land for a site inspection with my Builder Friend. We had a good look at the lay of the land and discussed everything that needs to get done.

In the midst of that conversation, I came to another decision, a rather sobering one: I simply can't afford to build my cabin this year.

That's disappointing.

Very disappointing.

I was longing to be settled in one place before winter this year.

But it's better to know and decide now instead of getting in over my head and winding up leveraged to the hilt. Or worse still, making commitments that I can't keep. I'm assembling a team of awesome people whom I really like and the last thing I would want to do would be to make – and then break – promises to them.

So, slow and steady is the order of the day. I am working hard, budgeting and saving as radically as I can (without sucking ALL of the joy out of my life).

With a little luck, I hope to be able to save enough money to build my micro cabin next year.

In the meantime, my immediate needs are a driveway and level spots to put my car and Wholehearted House. Then I'll need to move my tiny house on wheels to my land and set up a small solar rig for my immediate power needs, so I'll be able to work while I'm living there this summer.

The driveway is currently on hold, waiting for spring weight road restrictions to be lifted. And of course, because the path of my driveway has changed, I need to get a new estimate.

This spring, I want to make some raised beds and plant a garden. I also hope to be able to have a well dug (or drilled) and possibly put in my septic system this fall.

I have lots of research to do and decisions to make. Fortunately, I am surrounded by experienced friends who are generously willing to mentor me and help with ideas, advice, skill and labour.

And, since it will all take some time to get this project off the ground, I am also lucky to have a number of friends and neighbours who have offered to share their infrastructure through the summer so I'll have access to water, showers and laundry.

I'm looking forward to my summer in the woods. Conditions will be rustic in the extreme, and hopefully also peaceful in the extreme.

Well, adventurously peaceful.

Permissions #2: Black Eyes and Feathers in my Cap

The last time I posted about my process developing my land, I had just submitted my application to approve the proposed location of my driveway.

It was a case of putting the cart before the horse, I'm afraid.

As I have already shared here, some wonderful friends had been available to help me cut trees off my land before the application went through. But, when I got the application back, I learned that the Department of Transportation doesn't want my driveway to meet the road at the point where we cut down the trees. They have determined that the lines of sight will be better if I move my driveway from the middle of the lot to one side of the lot – and as luck would have it, it's the opposite side of the lot from where I want to put my home.

Since my lot is about 300 feet wide, we're talking about having my driveway be an extra 150 feet long. 

A picture is worth a thousand words:

The area outlined with the pink dotted line is where we've already cleared the trees. The path outlined in green indicates where the department of Transportation wants my driveway to intersect with the road – and the most reasonable path for me to get from there to the area where I want to live on my land – a sweet little knoll with elevation and privacy which backs onto a south-facing slope for gardening and solar gain.

When I first learned this, it felt like a major setback. A "black eye" in Catch-22 parlance (vs. a "feather in my cap").

My friends who helped me cut out the trees are now too busy to give me more help this fall and at least one of them, if not both of them, are going to be away for much of the winter.

I have other wonderful people I can engage to help me with this work. But with this response from the Ministry of Transportation, I felt the wind go out of my sails. I felt disappointed and overwhelmed. I felt self-judgmental and stupid for cutting out those trees before I knew for sure whether I would be allowed to put my driveway there. It went from feeling easy to feeling like it is too much to do (and too much to afford) before winter.

I called my driveway contractor to let him know about the hitch and that I would have to do the driveway work next spring instead of this fall.

Put some ice on that thing (recovering from a black eye)

Fortunately, time is a great healer – and so is trying to be kind and understanding toward oneself after making a mistake. A couple of weeks on, I have gained a better perspective.

My land is entirely mature forest and needs more diversity, so cutting out a stretch of trees and letting in more light is not a bad thing. Now, instead of covering that swath of land with shale and trying to discourage re-growth, I will have the fun of watching natural succession take place along that corridor.

I have decided to view the Driveway that Shall Never Touch the Road as a practice driveway, a folly, and a symbolic path, like in a Japanese Zen garden (such as the Nitobe garden on the UBC campus which contains a Dead End of Teenage Rebellion). Mine shall be more of a symbol of the sanctuary I seek to create on my land, one that will not always connect with the busy world of cars – the Dead End of Comfortable Seclusion.

And it may well also be the path for the power company to bring power on to my land. They will only come in 92 metres for free, and traveling along my new, less-direct driveway may well be longer than 92 metres.

So, I can see advantages to my "mistake" and ways to view it as a more of a "happy accident".

How about a feather in my cap?

In the step-by-step approach to my land development process, I have been procrastinating about the next step: contacting engineers to discuss an on-site sewage treatment solution, also known as a septic system. I think I have been scared of getting more bad news. I've heard that even with a composting toilet, one still is expected to have a system for greywater treatment, and there is no legal option for that except a septic system. I'm not against having a septic system. It will be a definite asset if I ever want to sell my land. It will make it easy for me to – one day – have hot and cold running water. It will keep the powers-that-be happy and make it easy to get building permits and an occupancy permit. I want this to be my home – insurable, legit, etc.

Back in the spring, I contacted my Grade 7 boyfriend, who is now a "Qualified Person" (that's the title given by the Ministry of the Environment to engineers who are accredited to design and inspect/approve septic systems). He was unfortunately too busy to help me; or perhaps he is still harbouring some resentment from Grade 7, or maybe from the one other date we went on in our early 20s. I was not exactly a delightful person when I was 13 and probably even less so when I was 21.

Since he was unavailable to help, I resolved to contact one of the larger outfits around here – one which had been recommended to my by a couple of different people. But I had been seriously procrastinating about it. I use Google calendar as a way of scheduling tasks and events and the "Call engineers" task has been dragged forward from week to week to week. For months now.

Finally fate took a hand. Lately, I have been trying to walk more and drive less when I run my errands. This is easy to do in Lunenburg, where I'm living for the winter. Unless it is raining, I just leave my car at home. And even when I need to drive to Bridgewater, I now try to park in one spot and walk to my various errands. This serves three functions: I get some exercise, the world gets a little less carbon and, while one of Bridgewater's two bridges is closed for construction, I don't have to waste my time sitting in stupid traffic waiting to cross the river.

Last week, while walking from the grocery store to the optical store to get my glasses adjusted, I walked right past the office of the engineers/surveyors I had been meaning to call for months. So, I went in and chatted with a staff person who took my number. One of the "Qualified People" called me the next day.

Many people had told me that hiring engineers would be brutal, that it was exorbitantly expensive, etc, etc. And I have my own reasons to be wary of engineers, having spent far more time in their company that anyone should have to – at least anyone who is not an engineer themselves.

However, I've had an excellent experience so far. The whole cost for a septic assessment, design and inspection is a thousand bucks all in and the permit is good for 3 years. But, since I'm not sure of my timelines to install a system, they were able to do a site inspection for a couple of hundred bucks and the news is good. My topography is appropriate for a cost-effective, small footprint (only 40 feet instead of 120 ft), gravity-fed, sand filter system. I have to dig a test hole for a drainage assessment, but they did an assessment nearby last year and anticipate favourable soil conditions.

Yay, good news. 

Also, they have staked out where the septic system would go, so that even if I decide not to install one for a number of years, I now know where not to put anything else – and most importantly, how to position my well so that it is far enough away from my septic system that it will not become contaminated.

So, one Black Eye and one Feather in My Cap.

I am quite content with that.

Now if only I could shake this darn autumn cold and get some sleep – but that is another story.