Invading Washington, DC

I was invited (or I may have invited myself, I can't quite remember) to visit Eric Hempstead, where he is working at building a strawbale studio in a family's backyard. He was just about at the stage of putting on the finish plaster, and I decided to go down to help him with it.

That idea was enticing enough, but when I heard that I'd also get a chance to experience the Eco-House, I couldn't resist. The Eco-House was a project of Builders Without Borders, whose members organized, designed and created a tiny, perfect strawbale structure on the grounds of the Botanic Gardens in Washington, DC, last summer. It stood right through the fall and winter, and was present for the inauguration of President Barak Obama earlier this year. It was then picked up by crane (another story, see more about that here) and delivered by flatbed to Sam and Kappy's place, outside of DC and south of Bowie, Maryland. Eric was building a companion structure to the Eco-House, and the Eco-House had become his pied à terre while he was there working. You can watch a video about the Eco-House here, which tells the story about the building and who built it, including an exciting sub-plot involving emergency preparedness and torrential downpours.

So, back to the strawbale studio. Eric began working on it last winter, and I breezed in after all the heavy lifting had been done. The studio was ready for its interior finish plaster, and Eric had almost all the materials needed already on site, including processed native clays and screened sand. We made an expedition to the countryside where we harvested some prickly pear cactus (emphasis on "prickly"), then brought them back, chopped them up and let them sit in water overnight to create an incredibly viscous liquid that would help with binding. The next day, we made up a batch of wheat paste, burning it in an attempt to make it "slightly translucent". That didn't seem to bother the dog, who ate the rest of the paste while we weren't looking. I also pounded up chunks of mica – Eric and our mutual friend Sarah Halley had found them during a walk in Philadelphia – into little sparkly flecks that would give the finish plaster sheen and depth.

For fibre, Eric has been experimenting with using blow-in cellulose. It's recycled, natural-ish, treated with natural fire and bug retardants, and very easy to procure. We soaked some in water, but for later batches used a pear juice/wheat paste combo to keep the liquid to a manageable level. The plaster whipped up smooth and creamy, and was a pleasure to apply. We spent the rest of the week applying plaster, hard troweling it, fixing mistakes, and watching the colour change from a deep browny red to a very light pink. Unlike some of the other plasters I've done, this one does not seem to be dusting at all, thanks probably to the pear juice and wheat paste. The nichos took a tremendous amount of time to get looking smooth and integrated with the rest of the wall, but they look so cool that it was well worth it to do. Tools included flexible trowels, both plastic and metal; sponges; and plastic container lids.

I learned tons about possible mix ingredients, and got lots more practice in applying and finessing plaster. And I got almost as much practice driving, as the trip entailed fourteen hours in the car on the way down, and sixteen on the way back. Next time, if I time it right, I may be able to make it in ten. As long as Samantha the GPS and I stop squabbling.


Clarification: I named this post "Invading Washington", because originally the whole fam damily was going to come on the trip, and the kids were excited to encounter all the extraterrestrial aliens that, as we know, populate Washington, since that is where they always seem to land in the movies. And movies don't lie.

Fireplace renovations

As earlier reported, the cob wall in Dufferin Grove Park was scheduled for renovation this summer. Over a couple days in August, Jenny and I pulled apart and reassembled the urbanite foundation to fit the new shape, and then took the old cob, added fresh straw, and returned it to the wall, with the help – as always – of many volunteers.

Jenny has since been cleaning up the shape of the wall, adding overhangs, and plastering. I'm hoping the warm fall weather holds!

NBCNY 2009

I spent another fabulous week in New York state this summer, attending the sixth annual Natural Building & Living Colloquium. This year I took the plunge and tried timberframing, which scares the bejesus out of me, what with its required accuracy and all. I have never attended a gentler, sweeter worksite than that presided over by Sarah Highland. My pathological fear of measuring pulled me away from the site eventually, but I'm feeling pretty pleased that I finally allowed myself to get introduced to timberframing. Thank you, Sarah.

The rest of the week found me working on the retreat cabin: making plaster test patches, learning how to use the hammer mill, pushing sodden horse poop through a screen (oh, wait, that was Eric, not me), prepping walls, and plastering. For the interior finish plaster, we used marble dust instead of sand; a smoother, more yummy plaster I have never worked with.

Other projects included:

• A round strawbale/cob sauna, on the spot most recently occupied by a strawbale dome;
• Taking another shot at building a green roof on the steep rake of the ceremonial building;
• Cladding the guest cabin with century-0ld wooden siding reclaimed from a house in Buffalo;
• Adding colourful plasters to the turtle oven and the kids' playhouse;
• Wattle and daub birdhouses;
• Lots of interesting workshops and talks;
• Naps, music, and fire-tending.
  

There was so much rain throughout the week that when the last day dawned bright and sunny, we decided to work on that day too. After a productive morning, the entire group went for a dip in the lake, then we made our way to the arbour for the closing ceremony.

About a dozen of us stuck around to help wrap up projects and start cleaning up. As fun as the week had been, this was even more fulfilling, as we really got to concentrate on getting stuff done, as well as taking advantage of the extra time to play more music, take more naps, and eat more food. And visit.

Oven tear-down

Built in 2004 as a how-the-heck-do-you-build-with-cob project, this oven was used for cooking, but never very much. The logistics of finding and storing wood in the cramped environs of the city (being careful to keep it away from the neighbouring fence, less we be accused of hastening the fence's demise), and of planning a roster of food to make good use of the eight hours or so of hot oven, were often overwhelming, so we usually opted for the peace and ease of our indoor oven.

We did have a couple of great parties with pizzas and pies hot from the oven, and I have fond memories of sitting mesmerized in front of the fire, watching the flames swoop across the top of the interior and flick tongues of fire right up the chimney.

My mom and I broke apart the oven in June of 2009, with extra help from a friend. I then took most of the resulting soil, dragged it down two steps, through a gate (don't let the gate bang on John's house!), and around to the front, and used it to create a sheet mulch garden at our neighbour's house. It took me most of three days to move all that material by bucket and dolly; a pile still remains. It is astonishing to me that I moved much of the clay and some of the foundation stones for the project using my bicycle and bike trailer. No wonder the oven took four months to build.

Women at work

The cob wall at Dufferin Grove Park is entering its fourth summer. Each year, we (me at first, and now mostly staff) assess the wall's condition in the spring, making plans to repair damage caused by weather and vandalism. This year, it was decided that repairs to the fireplace portion of the wall were proving too onerous to be sustainable. It has now been deconstructed, and in its place will go a continuation of the wall on either side.

Only in PDX

A friend of mine sent me this picture of a poster he saw up on a bulletin board; someone looking for their errant backyard chicken. Imagine that poor creature, out wandering the streets of Portland, Oregon, trying desperately to get home but, I imagine, not having the best sense of direction. The odds are stacked against it, I'm afraid.

Cob, chickens & community

A couple of weeks ago, I gave a talk as part of the Dufferin Grove Speakers' Series about my visit to the fine city of Portland last year. I was there to attend the Village Building Convergence, now in its ninth year. You can read more about it and see my pictures here. Generally, I was struck by how many things were allowed there: small cob buildings, benches, community gardens... It seemed like every backyard had its own resident chickens. Coming from Toronto, where I routinely chafe against the yoke of regulation, I found myself asking, "Is this really allowed? What about liability concerns?" I am afraid I came off as a bit of a prude.