The (long) weekend of Machetes and Margaritas

Long weekends usually do not apply to those who do not have a "job" or do not have their kids in institutionalized care. But this last weekend which coincided with Memorial Day, we spent our time finding the perfect place to build our Cob House. That meant finding the ideal area for placement of the house in correspondence to the sun. That feels like connecting with the source/nature.

However the ideal area happened to in the middle of heavily overgrown blackberry bushes, which is what Jen had foreseen. I tried to fool myself by finding a different site sans the blackberry bushes yet lacking the connection to the source because it was the easier site to clear. And that's how the name "Blackberry Cottage" was coined, because we chose the site overgrown with blackberry bushes. Simple. Yet effective, at least to me and that's all you can ask.

We came with machetes knowing this area was a prime building area. I swung the first machete, and it was kind of overwhelming. An initial path was created with the kids staying a safe difference away watching. Once the two younger kids wandered off, leaving Nate watching in anticipation. I could sense this, and not too long after Nate had now joined me in the machete-ing. It was a proud time, father and son clearing the land for their future home. A couple hours later we had finished for the day.
The night became my introduction to margaritas. Well margarita-like drinks according to Jen. I am not sure if that was the plan. Nevertheless that is what happened. The drinks were drunk, and some some-some. And that's how to spend a chill night.

That's how Day 2 happened. Machetes by day, and margaritas (and some some-some) by night. By the end of Day 2, we had cleared the area (well the ground was a sad scene of slain blackberry bushes), created steps and tracks through the bushes and hosted a family. I was quite impressed by our achievements. The task of creating a home out of nature with three kids is forever a balancing act, but one that has now become part of our reality. It is balancing act that I want to play a part in.

Day 3 was home (for now) time, but before it was clearing up time while the kids had their last play. It is kind of exciting getting plugged back into the the technological life, yet at times confronting. That is another balancing act that we are learning. We shall be eating that skill for breakfast in the months to come.

Introduction of sorts

Hi, my name is Nick, and I will be your guide. Read my words at your own peril. Some words may not make sense to you, some actually might. I will do my best as your guide or at least somewhere near my best to describe to you the going-ons of building a Cob House with my family (and friends). The joy, the excitement, the trials, the tribulations and ultimately the completion.

A little bit about myself. I am an thirty-something Aussie, living in greater Portland, Oregon with my wife, Jen and our three kids, Nate (8), Maya (5) and Eli (3). We as a family have always veered off to the left. We have never really held down a "career," we home-school the kids and we eat a non-traditional "American" diet. I have always preached live to your means, so as a couple with three kids who home-school and don't want to hold down a "job," our paths led us to downsize. And our current downsizing looks like building a Cob House and live a self-sustaining life off the land.

We have moved continents as a family twice. From America to Australia and back to America again. Our move to Australia was predicated on moving in with my family on their newly purchased 5-acre lot and live off the land. That basically fell apart at the seems from the beginning due to unseen (or forgotten) problems. Our plan got a little off-track, but in the meantime we ran our own whole-food baking company from our home in Western Sydney and sold our goods at Farmers Markets, until we decided to sell-up and move to America. As a farewell to Australia we travelled up the East-Coast of Australia for a few months in a Motorhome. Really, not a bad life. Sometimes, I look back and wonder why life was so hard at times back then.

When we finally arrived back in America, we took a little time to find our groove, and now that we have found it, it is full-steam ahead. Without the money to buy land, we managed through a friend to find our 5-acres that we have been hunting for. We will be land-sharing on our friend's land. It's a win-win situation for everybody involved. And thank you for the people who have helped us out financially. You know who you are.

As we are still involved in the monetary aspect of living, donations or whatever semantics you want to play are gratefully accepted. Aside from that, we shall be needing human-power to help build our new life. So if you have an hour, a day, a week or whatever to spare and are willing, we will gladly accept your help. We will make it worth your while with awesome company, great food, the best music, some some-some and more.

Summer 2011 in McMinnville, Oregon. bring it on!

BTW I don't think pictures, photos or whatever you want to call them need captions. I will let you decide who is who. I am not saying I will never caption, just not now.

I cry thorns

I cry thorns, real thorns. Real thorns of the Blackberry type.

Clearing the land which was completely covered with many generations of blackberry bushes with machetes can cause the occasional thorn to fly towards the face. I did not heed the advise from a friend to protect my eyes, so of course I had a flying thorn land in my left eye.

I was passively panicking, but upon examination by another friend, there was no sign of the thorn. We deduced that the thorn had scratched the eyeball. That was until the morning, when Jen noticed in the corner of my eye was the thorn. That was a relief, and kind of cool that I cried out the thorn during my sleep. What do you do while you sleep? I was happy I did not rub, as I am a rubber. Rub-rub-rub. I could have caused damage to the eye rubbing, but I followed advice not to rub. It's not an awesome story, but at least a beginning of many better awesomer stories to follow. I cannot promise, but it seems obvious.

So the next day while I was continuing to clear the land another thorn flew up into my other eye. One time was bad luck, twice was my bad. Did I heed the advise to wear protective eye wear? No. Sometimes it feels right to be foolish. As of the time of writing, I have not cried another thorn, so I can only assume that thorn did not stick to the eye.

The end. I could not retreat from that story any quicker.
Here is a cute picture to take your attention away. Bye.