Finally--a little work done

 . . . on the inside.

Don put in all the insulation this summer and yesterday we worked on the walls.

We decided to go a different way, since the studs for the walls were so screwy and we couldn't put the pine boards back on (ants, holes, etc).  So Don spent hours shimming them out and then we decided on beadboard for the bottom--it hides a world of flaws--and Sheetrock on the top.

Don did a fabulous job trimming out the windows.

yesterday we had the wood stove going and the cabin heated up nicely.  It took a while because it was stone cold, but if someone were living here it wouldn't take more than a few minutes to get it warm.

Of course all this is moot since I still don't have a septic system. Or and addition where the bathroom will go.  Or a foundation to put it on.  Or a water pump for the well.  But other than that, Mrs. Lincoln . . .

Did I mention I have an outhouse hole though?

Sadly, no outhouse yet, but I think next spring my plan is to spend my money on:
--foundation and deck for porch and addition
--well pump and pipe going into the "cellar" with some type of faucet to get well water
--outhouse
--loft floor (this is where we'll use the pine boards)

And I still won't be 1/4 of the way done!  But every time I think I will just give up and sell it, I walk around the property and listen to the wind in the trees, and I just can't.

The cabin this winter . . .

This was taken by intrepid photographer Pete Vertefeuille who ventured where few dare to tread (i.e., up my road) to see how the tiny house was doing after the 3,456 snowstorms we just had.  I'd been here about a week previously with another hardy soul, Rick the electrician, but was so dismayed by the 5-foot drifts I forgot to take a photo.  So this is actually after we lost abut a foot of it.
Spring seems  long way off.
But the little guy looks pretty sturdy and cozy! (Boy, I have to paint that white window!)

Lights, stove . . . tea!

A small miracle occured last night.
I brought some Christmas lights to the cabin and for the first time in over 50 years, Barney's cabin was lit up at night.  Let me tell you, the four cars that passed the house last night slowed down in disbelief.

I also brought water, teabags and teacups, and Randy helped me sort of tidy up the stove and we got it going and after a looooooong time, warmed the little cabin up.

Granted, it has no insulation and the wind blows through the walls a bit, so  the poor stove can be forgiven for taking a bit to heat up the place.  (that window behind Randy is just nailed over to keep out the draft--that's the wall that will be removed for the 8x8 addition --kitchen and bathroom-- should I live that long.) But we boiled some water and had 2 cups of tea, and hung a little cabinet on the wall to put future tea stuff in so the mice won't get it (they went to town on the bar of soap I left), and stayed there about 3 hours in the 13 degree weather outside so I'd say the experiment was a success.  I also know now that I can make the place warm for the electrician when he comes to put in all the wires and outlets and light fixture sockets (not the fixtures themselves--heck, I don't have the money for that), but after that we can see about the insulation.  Which will help keep out the creatures.  There are some cracks between the chimney and the siding which in the spring will be filled up with cement, but at the moment it's a rodent playground.
We god a bunch of wood in to dry and I have a mountain of kindling.

So now I have a furnace!

Still no engineer though.
I've just got to think of a clever plan . . . but wiring (in addition to my currently one--count 'em--outlet)  and insulation seem like a good goal for the winter--and also that's about all I have enough for in the old coffers . . .

Time to face the realtiy of . . . the septic issue

2015 brings tiny cabin resolutions:

1) install all wiring and insulation

2) create floor in loft

3) make stone steps to front door with magnificent and huge granite blocks given to me by John V

4) get rid of the 2 big stumps in front of the house

5) pull all the logs out of the river with Randy's new backhoe 

6) repair and enlarge the little storage shed, again with Randy's new backhoe since it requires digging out the bank

and 7)

take care of this pesky need for a $#@! engineered septic system.

So today I begin my search for the kindest, most considerate civil engineer on the planet, who will not take me to the cleaners and who might even want to barter some "stamping" services for web page development, copy editing, promotional materials, heck, I don't know . . . fishing rights?

Anyway, here goes try #1:

Dear Mr. XX:

I am a desperate woman.  I own a tiny cabin in [town omitted because sorry, the internet is a creepy place].  It was my goal to renovate it so I could live in it.  I’d lived in XX for many years and sadly had to move 2 years ago due to a really awful dispute with a neighbor that you don’t want to hear the details about.  I had purchased this property with the thought that I could remain in Hampton, albeit in a very teeny space (the cabin is 12’ x 20’ with a loft and a proposed 8x8’ addition for the bathroom and ½ of the kitchen area).

All was going well until the Northeast District of Health inspected the property and told me I had to have an engineered septic plan.  The wetlands agent/sanitarian for XX told me that this was not accurate; that the perc tests passed, that all the soils were appropriate, and that unless NE health had additional regulations in addition to the State Health regs (which he checked, and they do not) then I was not required legally to get an engineered plan.  I appealed their decision based on their agent’s misinterpretation of the soils and failure to consult a soils map prior to visiting the property.  (I do not have a mortgage for this property so a bank is not involved.)  The sanitarian and a friend who is a licensed engineer in another state helped me perform a property survey based on surrounding state and private A2 surveys as well as conducting a day of surveying the site itself (the things I climbed up to shoot the grades are still etched in my mind).  From that they prepared a site plan and a drawing of the proposed septic field (the contractor had already examined the site -and had dug the test pits--and assured me that he would have no problem installing the system.

My problem is (and you can see this coming, can’t you?) I do not have the 5 billion dollars required to have an engineer re-create what already exists on paper.  I barely have the 3 billion required for the actual septic installation (never mind the rest of the cabin—all I have is a roof and electricity).  I am looking for a nice, kind engineer who can examine the plans I do have and determine how much more work he or she would need to do in order to have this be an engineer-approved plan.

I currently live in XX but travel to XX a few times a month—I am still considered a “resident” because of the cabin.  Do you think we could make an appointment to discuss whether you would be willing to look at what I have and see if this is anything you might be able to be involved in?  I know it’ll cost me, I’m just hoping against hope that it does not kill me.

I figured that I could explain this better via email instead of on the phone.  Sorry to take up so much of your time.

Thanks so much for your consideration.

So, the line is cast, and the fly gently floats on the water . . .  until hell freezes over, probably, but we shall see.

Can live somewhere that you can't drain into!  (For those of you thinking "get an outhouse!" that's not the problem.  It's the "effluent"--ie, gray water that concerns these folks.  They don't want it leaching into the river.  the killer is, they told me that if there had been a cistern or some type of old system there before, I would not need an engineered plan!  As though the presence of previous harmful effluent cancelled out the potential for new flushing and draining to be of any concern.  I adore bureaucracy . . .)

Could it be? A woodstove?

After the humiliating Jotul Incident of 2013, I really didnt think I was ever going to have heat in the little cabin.  But Bob was my uncle, or in this case the brother of Don (pictured below, hunting for stovepipe screws), and he had a Vermont Castings Resolute just gathering dust in the barn.  So last week over it came, and Don and I hooked it up (to the new and UL-approved chimney flue lining), and it is fabulous.

We put the slate tiles down on the asbestos board without gluing or grouting them, since we'll have to move the whole shebang in the spring when the floor goes in, but it will be 3/4" smooth plywood so will come up exactly level with the tiles.

And before you mutter "Hillbilly" under your breath, remember:

• I am poor
• I will be painting and varnishing the plywood with a tromp de l'oeil pattern (probably big checkerboard)
• the slate will have a 3" oak border around it
• the red fireplace stones will be cleaned and the mantle will be encased in wood
• did I mention I'm poor

As you can see, the interior still, um, needs work.

But the outside is done, and if you look closely you can see a puff of smoke coming from the Hobbit chimney.

(Crap--I still need to paint that window!)

So that's all until next spring, unless I get really crazy and have all the electrical outlets and lighting boxes put in the right spots.  Plus, Dave will be getting is Engineer's license for CT so I may actually have a legal septic system plan!

I'm nearly giddy with anticipation . . .Quick!  The vapors!

Well, well, well

It was touch and go in the water department for a while. Maurice didn't think even at 14 feet that the well would draw enough water. But my expert consultants (Don, the ever-optomistic, and Randy, who wanted to have a personal source of bathwater on the north end of town) convinced me that a little water is better than no water, so we gave Maurice the go-ahead, and in went a well.
Don took the photos.

 

Maurice unloads the first tile.  I have no idea how he got that excavator to tiptoe down the path to the well site without disturbing a twig, but he did.

 

 First tile going down.  This shot was taken with the pond to Don's back.

Maurice is going down to check to see if the first tile is level. Before we started, a frog had made his home there, and a mole had made a death-leap, so we wanted to get the sleeve in and a cover on as soon as possible.

 

Last tile going on.  Don filled around with all the rocks I'd been collecting (and they were legion) so that there's be a bigger area for the water to collect and be less muddy.  After it's backfilled there'll be only about a foot of sleeve showing.

As of today, the water is up to the bottom of the fourth sleeve, which is a miracle.  Maurice warns, "You'll never be able to water your lawn with this well."  As you can see from the photos, that won't be a problem!!!

For all of you who think a dug well is a cheap alternative, think again--the tiles alone were $800.  I'm just saying . . . tiny house does not mean tiny price tag.

The siding is almost done!

Don has worked like a tornado and has only the top bits to put on (he has to pad the tops of the walls because the sides were raised 10" and the sheathing on the old walls is this iron-like oak that's about 1" thick, so it is a pain in the patootie.  But after that's done then he'll put shiplap on the peak--there is not much, and we'll probably paint it the green of the door.

Here's Don and Randy discussing appropriate stump removal.  It's anybody's guess, really.


The meter and pipe will have a small "closet" built around it (shingled like the sides) with a door to get at the meter and maybe some shelves inside for tiy garden tools, sice space is at a premium.  I keep forgetting to call CL&P to put the meter on--right now the electricity is free, but I am starting to worry--besides, we can't enclose it till the meter goes on or CL&P will have a cow.
Then we can dig a hole and put some gravel in it and try to set those front step stones.  That oughtta be a laugh riot.

The back of the cabin is all done for now; no sense siding the part that the addition is going to pop out of . . . though that looks like it'll be the 12th of Never.  Don's going to pull off the old shingles and put some more of my favorite tarpaper on it for that nice homey touch. 

 A back porch will be a lot nicer than these steps!  Although they have saved us from breaking our legs many times, thanks to Randy.  The porch is part of the addition--my next billion dollars.

The house wrens had 3 successful babies, who fledged last week, and the parents seem to be considering trying for another batch . . . they keep flying back to their  nest on the tiny ledge Barney built for them years ago, above the window on the side that will be opened to the addition.

Here's Mom and Dad.

Isn't Don a great photographer?