I have already looked at earthbag roundhouse plans, all of which are compartmented, but I really like what the bottom right photo in this link to Natural Homes hints at. My cottage would be smaller, of course, and I'll want the walls higher and with windows. I doubt if thatch would be my roofing material, too, though I like the idea of it. I really like the idea of a totally open interior, though, with everything ranged along the circumference, and under the benching.
A masonry heater in the center would be my primary heat source, augmented by a wood-burning stove "in" the kitchen section of the perimeter. The bathroom would have to be in the basement, though, with the battery bank, and that would be cold.
But maybe radiant panels serving as a sink for extra wind-turbine/solar panel wattage would keep it comfortable.
And then again, I can scrap the masonry heater, and go with a pellet boiler in the basement. This obviously needs more thought.
Amhrán Dóchais
O living always, always dying! O the burials of me past and present, O me while I stride ahead, material, visible, imperious as ever; O me, what I was for years, now dead, (I lament not, I am content); O to disengage myself from those corpses of me, which I turn and look at where I cast them, To pass on, (O living! always living!) and leave the corpses behind. Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass, Book XXX
15.10.13
12.10.13
Every morning and evening, when the skies are clear enough, I sit in my upper yard to watch the passing or coming of the dark. I listen to the birds, and I listen for the music; that is, the music of creation itself. I have not heard it yet, though I know it must be playing.
Perhaps this is because I find it so hard to sing a song of hope these days. And yet I do hope. Didn't that crusty old mercenary Abram "hope against hope"? Well, I can do the same.
I shared my "dream" with a colleague at the Just Harvest tent at a local farmers' market the other day: a few acres on which to grow my own vegetables, fruit and nut trees, and grains; a little round earthbag cottage and some storage buildings; perhaps a few Muscovy ducks to give me eggs and listen to my viola (and maybe a viol, too). She thought it was a good dream. Maybe if it comes to pass, a song of hope will come with it.
Perhaps this is because I find it so hard to sing a song of hope these days. And yet I do hope. Didn't that crusty old mercenary Abram "hope against hope"? Well, I can do the same.
I shared my "dream" with a colleague at the Just Harvest tent at a local farmers' market the other day: a few acres on which to grow my own vegetables, fruit and nut trees, and grains; a little round earthbag cottage and some storage buildings; perhaps a few Muscovy ducks to give me eggs and listen to my viola (and maybe a viol, too). She thought it was a good dream. Maybe if it comes to pass, a song of hope will come with it.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)