Home Stretch

We will finish our build in a little less than a month.

Andy is on a plane back to Nashville.

When I see him again, this will be done. More than one feeling there, for sure.

And what is this, and what does it mean to be done? I am certainly not done, and this has been something quite intangible if practical in many ways.

Most of this particular afternoon I have been polishing a mixture of hydrated lime, sand, and green and blue pigment on a 4x4 ceramic tile, with a quartz and a mookaite jasper stone I found at the local fossil and rock shop. It is oddly endless and time altering to rub a beautiful earth made object on a manmade square out in the shady heat. This technique is a bit “advanced” for amateur plasterers like ourselves, so we are practicing before we dive into perfecting it on the actual houses. Called Tadelakt* it is a technique originally developed in Morocco for cisterns—and we are using an American approximation of that for the interiors of our showers and tubs.

Since I last checked in in this blogging way, the exteriors of all our 3 houses have almost been finished—we have brown coated* the slipped* straw bales, which leveled out the walls—or brought them as close as they will be. (Some are curvier than others) We then put on a thin finish plaster*. Nearly done with the exteriors, for most of June we will be inside our cool straw bale homes away from the beating sun. Interior doors have been installed, base coat plaster has been some with some bas reliefs in a few places, window sills and trim have been placed, and bathrooms have been prepped with Thinset and lime plaster for our Tadelakt experience which is to be a big part of most of the rest of this week.

This month has carried much emotion with it for me. There has been a few moments here where I have experienced the bittersweet knowing how this preciousness will come to an end in its current form—whether mulberry picking, putting a finishing detail on a house I will rotate off of for the semester remainder, or eating a Mediterranean themed dinner prepared with great love on patterned sheets and a rosewater hand washing station out on our gravel drive. And there has also been a deep longing to be home, cuddling the cats, visiting with good soul friends, walking hand and hand on the land with my husband and understanding how it wants us to steward it and our community. There is an enhanced space of uncertainty. Andy’s employment comes to an end in July, and soon we will be both somewhat retired yoga teachers and natural builders in training? There is a lot of hope and unknowing about next steps. So I am trying to go slow in a feeling that is sometimes fast—making space to listen deeply to that space where possibilities bloom and dormant dreams make their way up out of the earth. 

I have been blessed to have so many experiences here that are teaching me further how to do that and grow my curiosity and wonder. Our group travelled to the Hopi reservation in Arizona to understand permaculture principles and do some work exchange with their Hopi Tutskwa Permaculture program, which has a congruent approach to Community Rebuilds. I was so impressed with the young people’s commitment to restoring their culture, their generosity of knowledge and friendship with us. I was also humbled by a climate that was harsh for me—I felt very soft in this almost waterless, extraordinarily windy place. Being with them  motivated me to go to a spiritual protest march a few weeks ago—protesting the milling and mining of Uranium on nearby native people’s land in White Mesa, UT, which has extended 15 years past the promised shutdown date and is creating sickness there in the water, the land, and its people. Strangely I met a new native friend who had lived in Clarksville, only about 30 minutes from where we live in Ashland City, and we shared some parallel stories as we walked from their community center to the mine.

The next day, a couple of my housefriends and I journeyed for the first time up into the La Sal mountains that overlook Moab, rising as high as 12,700 feet. We were underdressed for our perspective-shifting trip up into the aspens, the pines, the falling snow—we were greeted by a few magical creatures, deer and dusty grouse, and my body breathed in deeply the wetter, more familiar feeling air. Andy and I sought haven there again yesterday among beautiful smelling wildflowers and chances to glimpse an entire watershed from the mountain to the Colorado River, surrounded by mesas, canyons and distant mountains for miles.

Sitting with my sadness of Andy’s departure, I discovered a  tiny envelope from a friend and former colleague that Andy must have delivered to my lofted bedside. It is as if from a fairy. According to the note this fairy’s 2-year-old her daughter asks for it each night. Thank you fairy friend for reading this to her and sharing it with me.

I will quote you a few lines…as I believe we can all stand to hear it.

“Be brave little one!

Be brave to begin to listen inside to the voice of your heart so truthful and wise.

How far will I go? What things can I be?

When I get to choose what brave is to me…”

—from Be Brave Little One by Marianne Richmond

*Tadelakt uses the raw material of mined, ground and heated limestone as the binder and aggregate in plaster—it chemically returns to the original limestone composition on the wall when you’re done.

*brown coat is also called “base plaster”—most plasters are a binder, aggregate, and fiber and an occasional additive—ours is a mixture of clay (1/2 part), sand (6), chopped (1) and long straw (3), borax (1/20) and water

**slip is a mixture of clay and water that is somewhere between cream and yogurt in consistency

***the finish plaster we mix and use on the outside does not contain a fiber and is simply a binder (clay) and an aggregate (sand)