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 . . .)