t-9 days

Yesterday morning, I had my heart set on calling the Colorado Yurt Company to get some blueprint specifications-- the one we were using didn't include the extended deck (for the covered porch).

At right is the original blueprint I got on the website for a 16'x16' platform tent, which, exhibiting my questionable judgement, I assumed would include the front extension. 

Realizing that this was not the case was especially uncomfortable when I had to explain to Karen's stepdad Orlando, who had helped us lay the foundation, and speaks virtually no English, that there was a whole other part to the skeleton that we hadn't considered...

Above, Orlando scours the woodpile behind my dad's studio for any usable building material. He would occasionally bump an old discarded sculpture while removing blocks, and made me cringe repeatedly with his strictly practical focus. I was amazed he was even there helping us; Karen called me that morning with news that her stepdad had fought with her mom the previous night and was now not talking to the family. Our plans to start work that day hinged on Orlando's help and stock of old wood from sod transportation platforms, so his absence left us high and dry and my mom fuming.

Only several hours later, who showed up in a crammed minivan but Karen, her boyfriend Tom, and Orlando, dressed in work clothes and rearing to get started.

From the getgo, I was absolutely amazed by Orlando's energy and efficiency. His understanding of all the equipment in my dad's immense prefab tool repository that he laid his hands on was profound. Within the first hour of work, we had procured all the wood we'd need for the tent base, and then some. (The blueprint says to use cement blocks, but Orlando said the block we found in the woodpile, shown below, would work just as well.)

 I watched with mild resentment as we loaded the pickup truck with the blocks and tools and headed out to the site. Orlando's rigid determination and momentum seemed unstoppable-- I didn't want to blow his top with a crazy request like, "So, maybe we could carry these big heavy pieces of wood out there? I mean, just to save gas? It is an off-the-grid project, anyway..." The impracticality of such a suggestion was almost ludicrous when we had all the motorized equipment we could ever want at our disposal.

Initially, my grand scheme was to develop a sustainable lifestyle from entirely organic, local resources. My vision harkened back to pre-colonial time on Long Island, pristine and vibrant with deer on the roam, pheasants and turkeys. I had a completely romantic idea of what it could be- sleeping in a thatched roof hut, wearing deer pelts and moccasins, eating corn and native vegetables and fish... 

I decided though, in what turned out to be an entirely new direction, that modern technology isn't necessarily the bane of our existence. Since the Industrial Revolution, pollution and environmental degradation has skyrocketed, yes, but this doesn't mean we should have to go back in time and rewind innovation to find harmonious equilibrium. I think bicycles and solar panels are great! The danger is in their production and disposal, and those processes need improvement. For now, though, I think as long as we avoid buying anything new or using anything fossil-fueled as much as possible, the positives outweigh the negatives. To the extent that the goal of the project is to keep in touch while off-the-grid, almost everything we will be using by definition- (computer, cell phone, solar panel), and otherwise, in terms of gardening, tools, and equipment (bikes, trowels, hoes, pots, fencing, hoses, etc.), was generated on the grid.

I need to make a comprehensive list of every "gridlocked" object or substance or process we have utilized and will utilize throughout the course of the project. The point of the project is not to simply lower our carbon footprint as much as demonstrate the simplest of modern sustainable living systems.