An emerging enterprise in creating ecologically regenerative livelihoods.
This blog post by a highly concious architect really plucks a chord. It speaks to something all initiate craftsmen find out about the nature of maintaining high standards and still maintaining enough work to stay afloat.
http://www.originalgreen.org/OG/Blog/Entries/2009/11/10_the_Curse_of_the_Craftsman.html
This is my first attempt at dovetail joinery.
Ah yes, year two of life at the Ecovillage Training Center:
I’ll try to keep it in the nutshell range by sticking to bullet points and going sparingly on the musings, then I’ll link to a photo album that will tie it all together in living color.
All things considered, we did wind up doing a whole lot of valuable work improving the grounds of the ETC during the course of the 2009 season. From the perspective of the resident natural building coordinator, it may seem as if all we did is work and go to a course once in a while. I assure you that is not the entire story. It may have felt that way to me at times, but in reality the work that occured over the course of the year tended to provide a backbeat for the incredible friendships that were built around cooking extravagent and frugal meals for 10 or 20 people, finding a good time to skinny dip in the swimming hole, exploring the wild woods and agrarian countryside, birthing brilliant ideas and hatching baby chickens, chasing the rooster out of the greenhouse, rejuvenating the old cat, Jupiter, back to healthy hunting, and so on… all at once oddly domestic and subversively wild. We pulled it off together. All the while, The Farm provided us with an experience of our community within a time-tested hippie community, and we often found ourselves partaking in some event that allowed the elders, tricksters, children, and baffoons to serendipitously share a little of their wisdom with us. Personal transformations were witnessed in ourselves and many who came along for the journey with us, and that was a gift above all else. Well… there was the skinny dipping in the swimming hole to contend with…
feast your eyes on the slideshow at the link below:
The story of Ellie’s Earthen Floor is a memorable one. It is a story that is steeped with the very essence of experimentation with building techniques. This particular technique, Earthen Floors, is a highly challenging flooring method to get quality results with in our wet climate here in the Southeastern US. In order for us to even get a proper small scale experiment together it required a whole season’s worth of applying large bursts of work at well-timed intervals. Even with the best of intentions and lots of willing hands around to help out, we were still met with a vast amount of adversity. The weather was certainly not our least adversarial force. Our effort in earthen floor R&D took place during one of the most rainy and humid summers I can remember. Therefore, the result of all of our toiling and tinkering is one small step toward making this technique work in subtropical conditions and a multitude of vital lessons about that ever-so-important interface of moisture and materials.
Our earthen floor experimental station was one of the better products of workshop and volunteer labor at the ETC, known as the hippytat. Coming into the season my dear friend Ellie decided that she would like to take up residence in the hippytat, but the moisture content of the space suggested against it. Everything that entered the space eventually mildewed or molded. But we needed that space. So, our solution was to excavate the existing dirt floor which was essentially the soil that was there to begin with and to replace it with all the proper stages of an earthen floor. Armed with mattocks and shovels, we went to work. We used the soil we extricated to raise up a garden bed behind the structure. Then we replace the foot and a half of soil with large stones and gravel up to about four inches below our eventual finished floor height. This would provide the capillary break required by a floor made out of clay and sand. The gravel and stones prevent water from making its way up through the soil during wet weather events. At this point, a glance inside the small hermitage would reveal a room full of rocks. Not very hospitable… yet.
Our next big push was to install the ‘poured earth slab’ on top of the gravel capillary break. The 3-4 inch thick slab was a mixture which is analagous to the super adobe mixture which is used to fill earth bags for foundations and ‘ceramic’ domes. The mixture is simply clay, sand, lime, fiber, and just enough water to make it take the form or the floor. It dried perfectly, as it just so happened to be put in during the small window of dry weather during the summer.
Next came the layers of the finished floor. We first installed what became our base layer to bring the floor up to as smooth of a surface as we could muster. Our intention was to test the moisture combating action of the layers below by installing a layer without an antibiotic element, thus allowing us to maintain the full luster of the clay that Ellie wanted to color her floor. However, as the weather became increasingly moist and rainy, it became apparant that this was not an option. So we dosed the base layer with a coat of limewash in order to raise its alkalinity to a level inhospitable to mold and mildew. This was the source of our first valid learning: that no layer of earthen material installed in this climate needs to go without an appropriate does of some antibiotic/growth inhibitor such as lime or borax. Lime is the natural choice since in most every case it will improve the hardness and durability of the mixture.
Then we began to apply a final, finer and lime rich coat of earthen floor finish. With the help of two young artists, Darien Flores and Sarah Hewitt, the final coat went down and the most trying aspect of the process began, the finishing oil. Since receiving a coveted copy of Bill and Athena Steen’s Earthen Floors we had consulted it for all of our proceedings. But on the finishing oil application, it turns out we didn’t follow closely enough… After giving the floor almost two weeks to dry out following the final earthen layer, we decided to begin applying the linseed oil at full strength on the floor. Wouldn’t you know it, puddling occurred. It turned out that the humidity during late August/ Early September was consistently too high to allow the earthen layers to dry out fully. So, where the oil would normally have penetrated into the interstitial spaces around the sand and clay, hardening it to a fine polish, it was not allowed to do so, due to the remaining moisture content. Instead of penetrating, the oil formed a hardened layer on the surface of the floor, which had to be scraped and buffed off and followed up with another oiling once the floor had dried. This was a hard won lesson indeed. If one were to want professional results and a clay pot, almost leather, looking floor like the experts achieve in the Southwest, every aspect of the installation process would have to be timed perfectly with the seasonal changes in humidity and with the finicky local weather patterns. In our case, that would mean timing the process so that the final coats would be going on during the driest months of the summer, June and July. Practically speaking, it is very tricky, but it is doable. However, all things considered, my final verdict would be that earthen floors are just not regionally appropriate here in the SE. I hold that same opinion for a lot of building techniques which continue to be employed by hundreds of professionals, such as in-ground basements, the overuse of impermeable membranes leading to rot and mildew, and sprawling brick McMansions that consume exorbitant resources throughout construction and the life of the building. I digress.
We do undoubtedly need to explore more ecological solutions to every aspect of our built environment. This exploration of earthen floors has proven to hold valuable lessons, and I look forward to going back to check up on it’s performance in years to come.
Do good works and play dirty!
The story of the Green Dragon is as much a quagmire as the building itself for the builders who have been convinced that their energy could be wisely devoted to such a project. So, I’ll spare you the background information that I’ve gleaned and bring you into the story precisely where I came in… the Dragon’s living roof is in only growing plants in one small patch and the plasters are not anywhere near finish coat, and the floor is not accommodating, and there are drainage issues, and no good access, and no power or water… etc. ad nauseam… Anyhow, with the building slated to play host to droves of guests during the Continental Bioregional Congress of 2009, a critical mass of incentives lined up just so that myself and a few other brave souls were convinced to do some major remodeling on the Green Dragon. The results that were achieved in just a few short months were fairly substantial considering all of the other projects that were being undertaking at that time. Most of the credit for the overhaul is due to the visionary builder Carl Everettson, whose idea it was to change the entire roof line of the building, extending the partial clerestory into a complete clerestory and taking out a vast amount of other wonkiness. A great number of volunteers put in time and effort and learned a bit in the process. We had two cob work parties hosted by myself and a natural plasters workshop hosted by none other than Carol Crews. Jason Deptula did some great work extending power and lighting to the building. Nobody got seriously injured. All things considered, we drastically improved the beauty of the dragon and came out unscathed. Here is just a quick blip of the sea change that can be seen in the appearance of the Green Dragon.
Darien, Nathaniel, and I installed this stone staircase providing access to the Green Dragon at the Ecovillage Training Center. We had a couple of group efforts to bring all of the stones up from the creek during which people were actually willingly yoked to the front of wheelbarrows (thank you folks, you know who you are). These stairs are done with the least amount of mortar we could get away with and they are very sturdy, mostly due to the massive size of the stones that we used on the front edge of the stairs. Crossties were used for the first and third stairs because they were handy and expeditious.
Before these stairs there was only a muddy slope down to some tires where the large stone landing now exists. The retaining walls are also a new addition to the earth works.
Upon reading the title of this post, a few eyebrows may have raised and there may have been uttered a few perplexed puppy noises. However, I assure you that this title refers to a quite simple building technique that has been around since the before the steam engine (with possible exception to modern adaptations). Basically, for anyone who knows the recipe for making light clay straw as a wall cavity insulation infill, it is the same stuff only the straw is replaced with wood chips. For those unfamiliar with light clay anything, imagine coating every straw, or wood chip in this case, with a clay slip and then packing that into a form which shapes up to provide the substance of your walls. As a practiced timber framer, I recognized the value of wood chip slip as an infill immediately upon hearing about it. For the wall section that we used this technique on, we actually used the cut off pieces of the cedar planks that we used to deck the cieling. Passing them through a chipper provided us with the perfect size woodchip and since it was cedar it gives the wall rot resistance as well. Even still, I recommend adding some lime or borax to your clay slip mixture in order to prevent mold and mildew, especially in my climate: the humid Southeast. The resulting wall was incredibly sturdy and easy to plaster. It beats light clay straw in its ability to provide a solid wall structure without requiring added wall thickness, and you don’t have to pack it nearly as much. Just be sure that you are adding some horizontal reinforcement such as dowels or bamboo every foot or two as you pack in the wall. It helps to build in tracks to receive these re-bars before putting up the forms.
I wish I had gotten more photos of the process, but we happened to be between photographers during that time and my own camera was on the fritz.
This is the west wall of the Shouthaus with both of the custom cedar shower doors open.. Has a tudor style look and texture to it, and it has the real guts to go with it.
If you can’t rightfully and immediately make sweet love to your piece of land by planting out peach trees and plum trees all over it, at least work with it a little. Try improving the land’s fertility and making it much more reliably moist. How might I do that? you might ask. Why, biologically of course. Might I suggest a quaint combination of solar shower and composting toilet that we like to refer to as “The Shouthaus.” It can deliver unto you (and your patch of earth) solar-heated hot showers and rich, fertile humanure. If you’re creative in the manner by which you go about manifesting the basic shouthaus designs, you could also wind up with a very attractive work of art on your land. This is a surprisingly simple and elegant design which can provide years of hygiene and humanure without putting too big of a ding in your nest egg.
Yes, the shouthaus is in fact a fully functional facility which includes: *2 solar showers * 2 composting toilets in seperate stalls with clivus multrum chambers * 1 handwashing sink * water catchment from the roof to be used in the facilities * constructed wetlands to process the water used in the facilities and render it usable into the landscape.
For our first iteration of the shouthaus, we used as many salvaged materials as we could get our hands on, including the framing wood, the hardware cloth for the ferro-cement toilets and chamber tops, the insulation, most all of the accessories (sink, shower heads, windows), the hot water heaters (both the thermo-siphoning pool heaters to heat the water with the sun and the hot water heater tank to store it and to provide auxillary propane heat when needed), and even the adobe blocks. The foundation of the building features a reinforced concrete slab which forms the bottom of the two clivus multrum chambers and the floor base in the showers. The eastern red cedar deck and ceiling, etc., came from a local mill that specializes in cedar. The wall systems were designed to suit their functional role in the bigger picture of the building orientation. The main south wall is a 4 inch thick waddle and daub wall for thermal mass with bottles integrated to creat a patchwork of light portals. The north wall is made with light clay straw infill for insulative value and the west wall in the showering area is made of wood chip slip (to be discussed more fully in a future blog) which offers a balance of insulation and thermal mass. The interior partition walls are adobe half walls with rough sawn planks as visual barriers where needed. We also managed to do a partition wall out of lathe and plaster (the true test of a plaster’s staying power). All the walls recieved lime/clay/sand natural plasters which turned out very nicely. All together, the material cost for the building was very little, and the time and care that the builders put into the structure is reflected in a premium place to partake in the three S’s (or any combination thereof).
During the golden hour, in the heat of June, putting your last little oomph into pinning together a straw bale wall can definitely provoke some sentimental feelings about the careful construction of a future family’s dwelling place. Building with bales does have its drawbacks and you’ll find an ample number of skeptics, but the experience with the material is fairly phenomenal. When compared with the sensual experiences of fiberglass insulation, drywall mud, and latex paints, strawbales begin to conjure up a spa-like quality. It was hard work, no doubt, but at the end of the first day we stood there, drenched in sweat, made to wonder at how this pavillion had suddenly grown walls. All told, it probably took about a week or more to get all the customized bales around the windows, doors, and ceiling tied and the walls tightened up. This all required major muster and elbow grease. Mistakes were certainly make during the process, but we all learned a lion’s share. I’ll just share a few bullet points here:
*Make sure you know the optimal arrangement of the strings of the bales as they sit in the walls and the straw’s orientation. An In-Line Baler (very common modern, efficient baler) will create bales that are oriented completely the opposite of what works best in a wall. Some farmers will actually custom bale straw to your specifications (for the right price). Don’t assume that the bales will be available when you need them. When they are hot they’re hot. Go to the actual barn they are stored in and check them out.
*The headers above the windows and doors became a large custom job. Think through this detail carefully, as it is a highly visible feature.
*Get a bright color twine (other than straw colored) for restringing custom bales.
*Solid walls take time, especially curved walls with obstacles. Take that time and do it right the first time. Make it tight in all aspects.
*Lastly, this is a labor of love. Come in knowing that and be prepared for anything to happen.
These shots are from a recent trip that the apprentices and I made to a friend of mine’s communtiy frame raising. Emmanuel Benetollo is rapidly becoming a ballpark hero with the construction of this workshop of epic level of quality. It is an old world, mortise and tenoned timber frame that is on a dry stacked stone foundation. It will have a slate roof, some old world wall assembledges, and an immaculate set of parties to get the space real nice and warmed up. On top of all that, he is building this puppy in a very unlikely place known as Vestavia Hills, in Birmingham, AL. Thanks for doing what you’re doing Emmanuel.
“When we build, let us think that we build forever. Let it not be for present delight nor for present use alone. Let it be such work as our descendents will thank us for; and let us think, as we lay stone on stone, that a time is to come when those stones will be held sacred because our hands have touched them, and that men will say as they look upon the labor and wrought substance of them, ‘See! This our father did for us.’” — John Ruskin
When you’re bringing home artisan humus in your garden way cart.
My, this doesn’t even smell as bad as a mac and cheese fart!
It’s something special for the earth, straight from the heart.
Samsara’s life and death cycle doesn’t appear to have an end,
But compost teaches karma by illuminating that trend.
It always takes your shit, whether it’s dead or it’s foul,
And turns out sweet garden soil, all ready ready for the trowel.
Compost changed my life,
It’ll change your life too.
So go grow a kumquat tree,
From a big ole pile of poo.
Compost changed my life,
It’s both a science and an art.
Now me and my mother Earth
Will never have to be apart.
Compost changed my life,
It was a miracle to witness,
And a simple imperative act,
On the great long road of progress.
