I’ve been hesitating to write this entry since everything happened on Saturday night, it’s hard to go back to. But here goes...

Have you ever had an experience that came on as a complete surprise, even though in retrospect you should have maybe seen it coming? Me too! Just recently in fact - Saturday night. Arwydd and I had a very busy day volunteering at her school, dropped in to two birthday parties, and I found a cedar closet at the antique mall and got some friends to help me move it into the yurt, score! Arwydd lost a tooth and we put it in her little snowman box on the door frame, ready for pick up by the tooth fairy. Arwydd told me that she asked for gold coins this time and when I mentioned that the tooth fairy might only have access to US currency she said in an exasperated voice “no mom, she can ask some mermaids to get the gold from a sunken pirate ship for me!” Obviously.

I fixed dinner, tidied up the house, got all my laundry together, read to Arwydd, and we were off to bed. What a great day that was...

I woke up to the sounds of thunder and looked out the west window, sure enough, clouds and lightning. No big deal - the weather has been such a tease lately, all that promised rain never quite gets to us, right? Just to be safe, I closed the bubble at the top of the yurt and went back to sleep. I don’t know how much later it was when I woke up to hear the buckles on the outside of the yurt being violently thrashed into the sides, a sprinkle of rain on the roof. Jumping out of bed I went to the door, thinking to zip down the windows to keep the water out... I opened the door and the side cover (aka walls of the yurt) ripped out of the frame.

Slamming the door I screamed to Arwydd “get up, get up now!”
“Mooom, no I’m tired”
“This is IMPORTANT, GET UP!!” At that, she knew I wasn’t messing around and leaped out of bed. I grabbed her hand and ran with her to the Eco Nest, a small timber framed building about 30 feet away. “Stay here, don’t move, don’t open the door for any reason!” I yelled before running back out.

The side walls were peeling further and further back and I rushed to grab them and pull them back together. It was all I could do to hold them together while the rain poured down on me and the lighting and thunder crashed and jolted. I wondered what had happened to the rope I had tied between the grommets on either side and around the door frame - they had ripped clean out of the side cover!

I realized my only option was to stand there and try to literally hold the yurt together until the storm blew past, but would it intensify - could I even last however long that would take? My muscles were already starting to shake, I had no idea how long I’d been there already, Arwydd must be really scared - she was sleeping naked and had nothing in the Eco Nest - what if she was as cold as I was?

I started praying then, “please save us, please save our house, make this storm pass, please” Just right out loud, maybe yelling even, who knows? Suddenly, the emotion was gone right out of me and I heard a voice say: “what if you can’t save them both?” At that I let go of the side cover and ran inside, grabbing our bath bag and the comforter off the bed. I looked up and saw that the rafters over the bed were coming out of the center ring - the whole place was coming apart... I closed the door, grabbed Arwydd out of the Eco Nest and wrapped her in the comforter - and we ran for the car.

We spent the night at a friend’s and I came back in the morning to see that the damage was nowhere near as severe as it could have been. Arwydd’s tooth box was right there on the door sill, full of water. I was in a daze all day and left Arwydd with a friend so I could get myself together and make a plan. Maybe it would have been better for us to be together, but she was right back to normal and I was totally out of it. I couldn’t take care of her that day.

We haven’t slept in the yurt since. The seven rafters that came out of the center ring are now back in, the side cover is reattached, the top cover is snugged back down over the rafter ends and tucked back up under the bubble like it should be. But I don’t feel safe bringing Arwydd back there. The same thing could happen again.

I need to pre-drill holes in the bond beam and attach the side cover firmly, I need to put a wind cable from the center ring down deep into the floor, I need to get a weather radio, and yes - I have finally broken down - I need to get a cell phone.

This experience scared the hell out of me, and made me realize that I have this best case scenario attitude that takes me really far but could also do a lot of damage. In terms of a disaster this was minor - gusting wind at 60 miles per hour when they have been known to reach 100 mph or even tornado speeds around here. What the hell was I thinking, or not thinking, being out there without a weather radio? I don’t know. All I know is we got really, really lucky and I shouldn’t count on any more luck like that.

Tags: yurt, extreme weather

It says something about my current situation that for the first time in my life I read the “Iowa Crop and Weather Report”. Of course living off the grid would get one more “in tune with nature” meaning checking the weather report to see just how freaking hot it’s going to get each day and wether or not it will rain EVER and if the apocalypse is predicted by weeks end or not... But actually reading the crop report, why? Well, to see just how out of the ordinary this weather is, I suppose, to figure out just what I walked into thinking life without A/C would be merely hot rather than scorching, sweltering, baking... I could go on.

In any case, here are the highlights from said report: “Iowa endured a very hot and humid week.” Thank you Harry Hillaker, State Climatologist, couldn’t have said it better myself really... Here’s more: “The heat index officially climbed above 110 degrees in some areas on every day except Thursday (21st) and Sunday (24th) with a maximum reading of 117 at Spencer on Monday. Unofficial heat indices soared as high as 130 degrees.” I’ll vouch for that. And finally: “Rain amounts were highly variable with very little over the northwest and far southern Iowa while heavy rain fell over much of east central Iowa, which had been the driest portion of the state in recent months. Weekly rain totals varied from none at Rock Valley, Sheldon and Keosauqua to 6.07 inches near Stanley in northern Buchanan County and 5.92 inches at De Witt.” Since we live about fifteen minutes away from Keosaqua we fall into that very special “no rain” category. I feel almost hand picked for this experience by Nature, as though God himself is teaching me a lesson about the ramifications of turning away from that, his most wondrous creation, climate control.

All that is manageable, however. I simply open all the yurt windows at night and sleep six inches away from a powerful box fan. Since the sun is particularly blazing, the solar panels charge the battery bank at warp speed and we can run the fan night and day no problem. I open the west window in the morning and close the door and south windows to keep as much of the heat at bay as possible. When I get home after work I reverse the process and close up the west, opening the windows on the south east that the direct sun is no longer touching. The ventilation bubble on top is open as often as possible to encourage some movement of air through the house. Despite all this, we can’t stay inside for longer than five or ten minutes once the heat of the day hits. Even that brief amount of time is enough to warrant a shower, my entire house is a sauna. Oh and about that shower?

The water catchment tank is dry - it took me by surprise. I went to the outdoor sink to wash dishes after dinner, turned on the faucet, and a tiny stream of tepid water gurgled out. I was puzzled at first and turned the knob back and forth for a few seconds out of some faith that the water would magically appear just like in the traditionally plumbed world. No water at all. The entire 500 gallon tank is empty as can be and until it rains some substantial amount it will stay that way.

This means I have to bring water to wash dishes in my two gallon dispenser each day after work. I sheepishly stop by various friends houses and fill up before heading home. This is about enough to rinse each dish and add it to the ever growing pile in a sawed off 55 gallon barrel. I call that the “someday I’ll wash those” container. We do have drinking water, brought in from town in five gallon jugs.

All of that is manageable, there’s always a refreshing breeze at some point and those dishes will get done eventually but... I’ve found my Achilles heel - showering. The solar shower still needs a new pump, but that no longer matters since there is no water to shower with at this point. The idea of jumping in the pond was one I thought would work, but the pond is hotter than body temperature except in the middle, down deep. Anyway, I can’t use my green apple shampoo in there. It claims to be organic but something tells me it will kill frogs in seconds flat.

So I am writing this to you from a friends house where I sit in air conditioned, sweet smelling, comfort, because if I can’t get my hair washed at least every other day I will lose my freaking mind. I feel like a wimp, a sellout, a Judas to the cause of off the grid living. I’ve sold my soul for a clean and tingly scalp.

Tags: yurt living, off the grid living, heat wave, drought, lack of water

Wednesday the thirteenth was our first night in the yurt and the weather was cool enough we could sleep under the corduroy comforter, my favorite:) It had looked as though we would be staying with friends for another few weeks while I re-patched the earth floor (first patch job didn’t really take) and then coated it with a few layers of linseed and citrus oil. My friends who have done this before recommended that I skip this part and put throw rugs down everywhere as the linseed fumes would most likely aggravate Arwydd’s asthma. We just went through a rough week of nebulizer treatments and endless coughing so no thanks to a repeat of that scene!
So there we were with a surprise - moved up - move in date. To improve things, there is a kitten in the barn and so Arwydd no longer cares about the change in scene, there’s a new pet! A friend’s presentation on Gaviotas, Colombia and his new tree planting non profit coincided with our grand entry, so Arwydd enjoyed showing the yurt to everyone who came. As night fell and the guests left I realized I’d forgotten a crucial element - the lamp! Fortuntely candlelight was enough, and I still haven’t brought a lamp in.
Arwydd insisted that the kitten sleep in the yurt with us, which was a mistake. At first she was cute and cuddly but soon started pouncing and biting toes. When I put her out she circled the yurt and meowed piteously until let back in. After the kitten finally settled down, Arwydd started crying and saying her legs hurt - growing pains... After a candlelight search for Ibuprofin and a long while waiting for it to kick in we all slept. Nothing like a good solid four hours of sleep...
The next night Arwydd had a sleepover and I went to a friend’s place to shower and do wash... and the next? Well in any case we slept in the yurt two out of the last six nights. Tonight is the third day of a scorching heat wave and I meant to try out the yurt, I really did, but the water catchment tank on the barn is dry as a bone. The yurt is hot and stuffy because I left the south facing windows open while I was at work, even the pond is warm as soup.
Excuses, excuses... but this is not about torturing myself. If I wind up hating this experience what’s the point? Maybe part the lesson in all of this is that it’s ok to be a bit more flexible. And that a/c totally rocks.

Tags: yurt, off the grid, change of lifestyle, simplifying

I have blog guilt. When I started the yurt project two months ago I had every intention of updating this blog every week, posting pictures, you know... having my stuff together! Obviously, that hasn’t happened. Constructing even a yurt turns out to be a big investment of time, add a job and a kid on top of that and.... Let’s just say I dropped the ball.
When I read something like “Julie Julia” where author Julie Powell not only cooked 536 of Julia Child’s recipes in 365 days but wrote about it regularly I have a totally new comprehension and respect than before the yurt saga. It can be difficult to decide on and start a project, more difficult to carry it through to completion, but the hardest thing for me is to sit down and write about it every day. Discipline is what’s missing here.

Over the past year I've become increasingly agitated with apartment life, wishing there were space to properly garden and that improvements made would add to my own property value instead of someone else's. I figured almost 30 was a pretty good age to stop paying rent and start building equity. At first I tackled this idea the way most people do, by perusing real estate ads and daydreaming. I looked at about a dozen houses somehow assuming that when I found the right place I would skip on down to the bank and secure a mortgage. I have a job after all, what could go wrong?
Well, as some of you already know I have not graduated college yet. Student loans were piling up so I finished all my required classes then applied for a job in the Sustainable Living Department and crossed my fingers. Job secured, I swore I would finish up the remaining degree requirements (a paper, an online class, and a few other bothersome things) in "a little while". Almost a year later, life has taken over and I still have not earned my diploma. Oops. Although I have the clear intention of finishing up, that is not enough to secure a mortgage. The bank wants either two years of impeccably paid bills and employer references, or two years in school with a degree to show for it. Sooo.... no loan for me. I had a day or so of offended dignity ("I pay my bills, I'm a responsible person!") before realizing I had really dodged a bullet.
What does home ownership really mean? 30 years of debt, constant repair and maintenance, insurance, taxes... good Lord what was I thinking? How about doing something fun and adventurous instead? What would that look like? Where would I build it? Who would help me? Once I asked these questions the answers rolled in quickly. I needed something portable, since there wasn’t enough money for land and a house. If I could come up with the right kind of structure I could live in it for a few years while saving for land, then move the house onto the new property. Mobile home? No, that just didn’t feel like my kind of thing. What else would work? I remembered a friend who has been dreaming about creating a village of yurts here in Fairfield, could a yurt be the right thing for me?
Everything seemed ideal, at least as far as the promotional materials described. The components weren’t all natural, though, and that was a big problem. Could we live with it for a few years, would it be that big of a deal? Ultimately it came down to price, at around $12,000 we could afford a yurt and it would go up quickly. Sold. A work trade was arranged with the members of the Sustainable Living Coalition, I could live rent and utility free out at their land, two miles outside of town. Off the grid rent free? Seriously!? But it was true, and it would be so easy, although of course thoughts are usually a bit easier than action...

Tags: yurt, affordable housing, natural building, off the grid

While it's still fresh in my mind I want to get this down, so here it is.  
 
I've gone from the standard American diet, to french fry vegetarianism, back through standard, vegetarian, macrobiotic, vegan, and raw food diet.  At this point Arwydd and I strive for 100% organic, which includes dairy, eggs, and the occasional meat.  In addition to organic, we eat as locally as possible and I've begun to realize that, especially in the winter in Iowa, what gets you through are the chickens, ducks, pigs, whatever animals have fattened in the warmer months.
 
If we are to eat a truly local diet, including local meat, that means we may personally know the animals.  This begs the question: who will kill the animals?  Who will have blood on their hands? Is it necessary to do the deed myself, to take responsibility for my consumption?  Is it acceptable to simply say "I'm not that kind of person, to each their own", and continue consuming animals someone else has raised, cared for, and slaughtered?  My conclusion was this, I have to see and know every part of the process before I can partake in the end result, the food that was the body of an animal.
 
As Arwydd and I drove out to the farm I felt a bit of uneasy anticipation, today was the day I would help slaughter ducks.  Even though we arrived 45 minutes late, we hadn't missed anything. The group was still summoning the courage to do this thing, to separate two male ducks from the flock and butcher them.  The ducks had already been without food for 24 hours, to make sure their digestive systems were clean and that no feces would contaminate the meat when they were gutted.  
 
After building our momentum the group walked to the barn and entered the poultry pen, the chickens and ducks scattered and flapped, kicked up dust and made lots of noise.  They were not going gently.  After a bit of this the two male ducks (identified by their curly tail feathers) were nabbed and removed from the pen.  I wound up holding one duck while the other was taken behind the milking stalls and stabbed in the jugular.  The blood drained into a cooking pot and it seemed to take a long, long time until the body went limp.  I turned the second duck away so that it would not see it's friend's end.  I don't know if that helped, or if the duck knew anyway.
 
I was worried about how Arwydd would react to all this, and she did cry a few tears and leave the barn when the first duck was killed.  I spoke to her over the half door of the barn: "This is how we get our meat, Arwydd.  Some people think it is wrong, some don't think about it at all, I want you to know where your food comes from so you can choose for yourself."  She came back to see what the duck looked like when he was dead, and seemed to take it all in stride.
 
It took about ten minuted for everyone to be ready for the second duck.  It had taken a lot of nerve to kill the first, now it had to happen again.  Everyone left the barn to clean up, get a better knife, gather themselves.  I was left alone, holding the soft, brown and white duck.  I could feel his little heart beating against my chest, his feet braced against my hand, his neck draped across my arm.  He seemed very calm and did not struggle.  He and the billy goat regarded one other through the wire fence, looking each other directly in the eye.  Neither of them looked at me.
 
After a long time, everyone came back and suddenly things were in motion.  The duck was taken out of my arms and hung upside down by the feet.  I put a hand on his back for comfort?  To help?  I don't know why.  "Who is going to break the neck?” my friend asked, “We should just break the neck first so it doesn't hurt too much."  A long pause, my heart pounded as I envisioned myself deftly swinging the bird to crack his neck, then administering a quick and professional nick to a vein to end the job.  But I couldn't.  All I could do was stand with my hand on the bird's back while someone else did the messy work, bending the neck at a hard angle, squeezing and crunching.   At one point I realized my hands were covering my face and there was blood on my boots.  The duck opened and closed his eyes as his head was sliced off.  His tail feathers wiggled the way they do when a live duck shakes water off of his backside.  But that was all.
 
Under the apple tree we dunked the headless bodies into pots of scalding water and pulled out the feathers, saving the down to the side.  Such a small amount of down per duck, how many dead ducks and geese does my knee length winter parka represent?  Next the bellies were cut open to reveal the organs, they looked like seashells, worms, some we couldn't identify.  The dogs nosed around with hopeful interest, knowing that some of these unnamed bits would be coming their way.
 
And finally there they were, two ducks ready to be roasted, except that their little orange feet were still attached.  It was so unnerving to see what had become of the little duck I had carefully held.  My friend invited the whole group back to have a this duck dinner later on in the week.  I don't know if I'll go.
 
I asked Arwydd whether she would and received a prompt "no", but when questioned as to whether she would still eat chicken from the store or a restaurant the answer was "yes".  And that says it all doesn't it?  Getting to the root of something and seeing what really goes into it can give you pause.  When someone else does it for you, it's just a matter of handing over money.  Impersonal, easy.  It's not easy for the duck, and it shouldn't be easy for the person butchering that duck.  Every occasion calls for respect and care.  I want to take responsibility for the part I play in the world, for the animals my daughter and I consume.  It should never be easy.

Tags: butchering ducks, ducks, duck meat, plucking ducks, eating meat, vegetarianism, local food, local meat