The belongings I have collected, received, and made myself for so many years have filled my spaces almost to the rim. Historical value, creative potential, sentiment, and portfolio value are layered over many of my tangible belongings, to say nothing of the viewing or reading pleasure of my art collection and library. Items which are "aides memoire" were photographed so as not to be entirely lost as triggers for my fond memories.
Editing certain categories of my multiple collections has freed numerous items to be given to charity or the whimsy of friends and acquaintances. After living with countless baskets over the years, for instance, I know which are likely to be most useful in my tiny house, and the first sorting released more than half of the empty ones.
Disassembling other collections takes a little time, and preparing carefully collected glass terrarium jars to move back into usefulness to the world meant cleaning some out so they would be better appreciated by their new owners. Only a small portion of my belongings may have this attention given to them, and as the ball gets rolling, my winnowing out is done in broader strokes.
Serendipitously, a friend's friend (an apprentice tradeswoman) moved into her first apartment, and had little in the way of kitchen items and linens, so numerous bags and boxes and even pieces of furniture made their way to her, with a satisfying sense of good timing; a win-win situation.
As a voracious reader for pleasure, I have amassed a number of fairly complete sets of the writings of certain authors, and in many cases the decision to retain them has been a no-brainer. A wall of shelves in my "storage depot" will take care of them neatly, and allow me periodic library privileges to keep my tiny house stocked with enjoyable reading matter.
Having inherited countless delightful table linens, doilies, dishes, etc., especially from my father's mother, I have treasured their beauty for years, without actually using many of them in my daily life. So now I have the opportunity for a watershed moment, to pass some on to friends or relatives, or to release them to the world through the online estate sale I have planned.
Among the categories of clothing to release is that of wool, sheepswool, angora and cashmere, many knitted items of which were passed on to me. Many people do not seem to wear these materials much anymore. I met a woman who recycles/upcycles wool garments by unraveling and winding up the yarns, and then crocheting adorable stuffed animals from them. My plan is to hold back those sweaters that will work for me, and give her the rest, so they will have a new life as snakes or elephants or octopus legs. Additional vintage clothing will also be passed on, probably by being put into the online estate sale.
Many of the belongings I treasure most are gifts from nature, including rocks, roots, branches, leaves, shells, fossils, pottery shards and even onion skins. Their beauty and stories inspire me as a person and an artist. As I sort my treasures, I accept that a number will return to nature, and more will come to me to enrich my spirit and creativity. It is clear to me that this process feels organic and right as part of the transition into tiny living; if I startle my soul by over-dramatic change, I may fit awkwardly in my modified EPU. "One Day at a Time" and "Proceed as the Way Opens" are mottos close to my heart these days.
The whole interior needed to be as finished as we could make it, in order to get as much varnished as possible all at once. Kyle did a lot of sanding of both loft floors, and installed trim on 6 windows. I puttied and sanded the nail holes in the window trim and the wainscoting. I did a lot of work on the floor too, knowing that anything that was there was going to be there for the duration. Such as dings, scratches, off-color spots, etc.
This is a very good view of the sleeping loft, showing the slots where the lexan strips will go. The photo was taken from the storage loft; the lightbulb that may be seen is in the fixture in the center of the cathedral ceiling portion of the house.
Floor boards for the storage loft were recycled from pine shelves I inherited from the apartment dweller upstairs, and then disassembled and saved.
Preparing the wainscoting for varnish included installing the 12V outlet covers, custom-made by Kyle, P and M, who was helping with their production.
A sunny afternoon makes the tiny house interior glow, and my friend/host C was drawn in to absorb the sunshine. Everything was pretty ship-shape at this point, swept carefully and wiped down, so dust would not get trapped in the varnish.
A final view of the floor before it was to be coated with two layers of spar varnish. It was very satisfying to create the "boards" and vary their tone and grain, and I spent quite a few days getting it to this point.
It looks sunny in the photographs, but the weather was not being much more cooperative than it had been all winter. Even though we had the heater inside keeping the space at 55 degrees or higher for the proper curing of varnish, K the painter was concerned about the need to open the windows a fraction overnight (so the sashes could be properly coated and cured). The weather prediction was for below zero, and he was not sure what a temperature that low might do to the wet varnish! So he had us put plastic over the windows that would have to be left open, at least to prevent a breeze from sweeping in, however frigid the air on the other side of that plastic would be.
Here K prepares his bucket for varnishing window trim and wainscoting. Once that was coated, he would remove the drop cloth and roller the floor with satin-finish varnish.
This view shows the first coat of varnish going on my floor, shining wetly (and smelling strongly!). Later I eventually realized that, in another geographical misconception, what I (who come from the New England boating region) had assumed was true varnish, turned out to have been "sparurethane" and not varnish at all. The fumes have largely dissipated after two and a half months.... Anyway, it looks beautiful, and is incredibly tough. It is slippery under stockinged feet, but that is actually nice for sitting on the floor, and great for scooting around the loft.
In an attempt to tone down a little of the yellow "Jersey Cream" paint color, I had the ceiling painted with a lighter tone on the same paint chip page ("Crisp Linen"), but it made little difference, except to (slightly) clash with the yellow. I contemplate painting the ceiling with a plain ceiling white at some point, but not now. It is time to start building in the windowseat!
(Aside: As I named this post, I kept hearing in the back of my mind, "Doorknobs and Threshholds. Bedknobs and Broomsticks? Pitchforks and Tablespoons? No, Doorknobs and Threshholds!" There's a book title in there somewhere...)
I include this view of the construction site to illustrate the ambiance of many a winter evening as temperatures grudgingly and intermittently permitted work to continue for a full day and into the evening. Rain is on my windshield, and bright hospitable light shines out into the dark.
Look! To paraphrase (or corrupt) a famous saying: "This may be one small knob for the house, but it gets rid of a giant pain in the patoot for mankind" -- namely the little piece of corrugated cardboard we have been fussingly using to hold the door shut, lo these many weeks.
Cabinetmaker reaches for new doorknob, with great pleasure.
Cabinetmaker obligingly waits while homeowner takes photo of him opening the door! (Note: beneath his feet, the puttying of cracks in the floor continues, in preparation for further faux-finishing, the goal being to fool the eye that the plywood, grain running from port to starboard, is really hardwood tongue-and-groove floorboards, running from bow to stern.)
Retiring the pesky but invaluable door wedge, after a winter of service. Actually this is the third or fourth one, since we kept dropping them in the snow or sweeping them up in the trash. It is nice, actually, that doorknobs are so readily available these days, and inexpensive, and easy to install. Perhaps in the future my antique door/knob/lockset will be restored and in use at the entry, but until then, the entry has graduated from extremely primitive to relatively civilized.
The beautiful stained oak threshold extension came next, which allowed us to put the weatherstripping under the door and stop the breeze. (Note the improvement in the floor!!)
At this time much of the trim around the door was also installed and stained. It looks very finished now. I can work on painting on the blank white face of the door whenever I like. My thoughts are percolating...
Several of my wonderful Nepali friends drove all the way from Northern Cincinnati to see my tiny house. Here are S, T and me when we arrived.
Here are B, T, S, and D, lined up against their car, which B was happy to have been allowed to drive on the road trip. D had a lot of questions about building the house, and they all enjoyed seeing it, but I think the teenagers were secretly more excited about the long car trip on the highway across Cincinnati and down into Kentucky!
In this view, looking aft, may be seen two of my folding screens, which have been coming in handy for mocking up possible dividing walls. One in the foreground delineates the space on the port side for the kitchen area, under the only window on the port side, which here provides the light brightening the folding screen. The other allowed me to play around with squeezing in a skinny closet space to one side of the window seat.
Looking forward from the windowseat, a heavier duty folding screen may be seen mocking up the space for the loo, about 19" x 48" of floor space just forward of the entry door.
An event hosted by Brad Cooper and the People's Liberty Foundation was only a few days after the visit by my Nepali friends. Unfortunately I have no photographs from the "Size Matters" exhibit of cardboard "house" floorplans Brad and his colleagues constructed to demonstrate various small house sizes, but am proud to say I won a prize in Brad's raffle contest by guessing well at their square footages. (Naturally I could do this only by mentally laying out footprints and partial footprints of my own house.) This gave a friend and me a great meal at the nearby Firehouse Pizza immediately following the event.
Delicious pizza from a wood-fired pizza oven...
...and lo and behold! The discovery that the pizza business began as a "tiny pizzeria on wheels!" So another connection, based on my adventurous journey to build my tiny house. Fun!
