warm tiny houses

Once upon a time—

— (thirty-nine years ago last March to be precise)—

—I moved into a wee house half way up a canyon.

It was the first place I’d ever lived on my own and its cedar-lined walls contained everything a gal and her dog could want: a wood stove, a sink,¹ a chair, a mattress in the loft, some (wonky) windows—²

—and just enough space for the sewing machine, spinning wheel, and knitting machines with which I optimistically planned to support myself.³

My neighbor (an independent physicist who lived across the canyon)⁴ —

—even helped me install a telephone.⁵

I didn’t build the house⁶—

—but I did build the woodshed using logs from the property and some scrounged metal roofing. Once I’d split and neatly stacked the pile of Douglas Fir and Larch, we felt ready for anything.⁷

It’s been a while since I’ve thought about that woodshed, or that time, but when I came upon these photos during a recent bout of basement-clearing—

—(a task I punctuated with tapestry because how not)—

—I began to wonder why—

—with all the tiny houses I’ve drawn—

—all the tiny houses I’ve woven⁸—

—and all the tiny houses I continue to weave—

—and draw—

—not a single one has a woodshed—

—not even those endowed with both stove and chimney.

It’s quite an oversight—especially in this Northern Hemisphere season of flame-inspired warmth.

But today I’m going to trust that an ample supply of neatly stacked wood is stored just out of sight (and well protected), as it was in the canyon long ago.

I’ll also believe that Beryl (like Scarface before her), will make sure I weave a warm spot for her, wherever we are.

And may the same be true for you. For Beryl and I are closing up shop here at The Gusset for the next little bit. We plan to take long crepuscular and solstice-inspired walks, then sink into our mid-winter holiday nest.⁹

So until we meet again, may your heart be full, your hearth warm (with sun, flame or glow collar depending on circumstances)—

—and may your hands brim with whatever you love best (scrumptious kibbles would be awesome).

1. The faucets didn’t work, but the great thing about carrying water uphill in a bucket is that no matter how cold it gets your pipes won’t freeze if /when the fire goes out.

2. What is it about a digital pictures of an old snapshots? They make everything look slightly decrepit and yet also golden. But perhaps that’s actually how it was? Memory is such a funny thing.

3. Handspun garments—knit in whatever manner—were not a thing back then, and my pre-internet-backwoods-door-to-door marketing strategy was not particularly effective. In other words, this was not the career path of my dreams. Within a year I went to work clearing trails for the Forest Service to make the land payment. But even with all that, my weensy workshop produced an astonishing number of garments in the time I was there, and I learned things that still feel essential: about yarn, garment structure, focus, commitment, salesmanship (or lack thereof), the bliss of solitude, and most of all, my capacity for yarn-centric delight.

4. Warren Q Miller was his name—a brilliant fellow who (along with much else), was an expert cross cut saw filer and wrote the USDA manual on Cross Cut Saw filing. You can see the first of a series of videos about said sharpening at the first link above, and read a pdf of the manual at the second.

5. It was a ring-a-ling phone, my number was short—short—long, and I could talk to three other people via the miracle of #9 wire we strung between trees.

6. I like to think I’d have done a better job than the nephew of the previous owner who’d thrown it together in a couple of months. One of my first tasks was to build a wooden gutter over the door so the rain didn’t pour on my head when I stepped outside (it really worked)! Then I built an outhouse, and finally the woodshed.

7. Beryl is as good at posing as Scarface.

8. If you have a hankering to see more tiny house tapestries, check out the 2018 and 2019 pages of my archive.

9. My dear friend Christine McGreevy has a magical family solstice practice that she shares at The Solstice Circle, and if you’re interested in finding new ways to celebrate together, I can’t recommend it enough. I know she has sold out of candle supplies, but you can always get her lovely Instruction Booklet (a pdf), and learn new ways to bring a luminous moment into your midwinter, no matter how tiny your house or family—with or without a woodshed:-)