The home Marie and I built here on our mountainside property is a bungalow. No, not a dung beetle, not a buffalo, a bungalow.
Initially we were certain we wanted a genuine log home, because they just look so GOOD tucked back into the woods and because their solid log walls are touted as being highly thermally efficient. So I researched the various species and shapes of logs used, construction methods, benefits and drawbacks. I read many personal tales of folks who had built a log home, what worked, what went wrong, and how they felt about it years later. In the end we abandoned the log home idea for several reasons:
This is part three of my on-going yammer about life in the mountains. In Part 1 we looked at getting established, in Part 2 we looked at the physical necessities of life here. This time we’ll look as the more esoteric aspects.
In east Tennessee winters are normally pretty mild. This winter has been an exception: in early January we hit an overnight low of minus 1° F, the lowest temperature in 20 years. My relatives in Nebraska and Colorado laugh at me, saying that’s a balmy spring day to them. We have been spoiled by the normally temperate weather we enjoy so much here. Aside from this year’s cold, we do have some special challenges.
One is that temperatures vary with elevation. Newport sprawls out along the Pigeon River on the floor of the valley and is around 1,050 feet elevation. At 6,593 feet, Mount LeConte is the highest point in our immediate area (we can see it from our front porch) and the difference in temperature between there and Newport can be dramatic. There are dozens and dozens of other mountain peaks that range between 1,500 and 4,000 feet.
After a snow, we often have continued school closings on days when the roads in Newport are clear and the weather seems fine. This is to accommodate the people who live in those higher elevations where it has not warmed up enough for things to start melting off. Road ice is the major issue.
As you know, Dear Reader, I have recently been looking at and talking about the concepts of minimalism. While I can not currently claim membership in that club, it is the direction in which I’m moving, and it occurs to me that it is the direction from whence I came. Yes, I was once a certifiable minimalist – long before it was popular, before there was a fancy nameplate to hang on one’s door to announce it to the world. It was just the way it was. No; I didn’t grow up in the Great Depression, it was something far stranger than that.
You see, it began in childhood. We were an Air Force family and the government has never been any too generous with Non-Com pay rates. My parent’s always saw that the 4 of us young’uns had what we needed, but frills were few. Don’t get me wrong; we weren’t raised in a packing crate or anything, we were comfortable and happy. The only time I ever felt even a little deprived was when a friend came to school wearing a pair of the latest tennis shoes – you know, the ones that make you run like the wind and allow you to leap over small buildings in a single bound, I’d feel a twinge of envy. But it passed quickly. My parents raised us with better values than that. They taught us to find contentment in what we had. More or less! Continue reading “Rooted in Minimalism”
I have always considered dressing dogs in people-like clothes to be degrading and silly. I’ll admit that I’ve seen (and enjoyed) some photos of dogs dressed up for Halloween that were really cute, and I marveled at the patience these dogs display in sitting still for a photo. But to dress a dog in doll-like clothes and trot it around on a regular basis is…silly. And I have always doubted that the dogs like it, so it must be something forced on them.
Cochise, spiffed up for visiting.
Accessories are another matter. Even my own Cochise has shown a fondness for adding a splash of color when we go out to make our rounds at Christmas time. But this does not restrict his movement or get snagged on things the way clothes do.
And protective clothes are an exception. Our friends at Old Friends Senior Dog Sanctuary often put coats on their wards to help keep their aged bones warm in winter, but these are special made to conform to the shape of dogs bodies and to allow free movement. And the dogs to seem to enjoy the protection from the cold.
It was, therefore, rather surprising to me to see Cochise’s reaction to being stuffed into a Tee shirt after he came in from the cold, shivering violently: Continue reading “Clothes, Dogs and Fashion Sense”
On the morning of Sunday, January 19th, 2014 Allan Douglas passed over the bridge to pound the great typewriter in the sky. He died by my hand. Although I prefer the term “assisted suicide” to “murder” because Allan Douglas and I had in fact discussed this situation and the way things might play out. But should anyone elect to prefer charges…
Before the NSA data-mining center flags this post and sends the FBI over to break down my door, I should explain that Allan Douglas was my pen name. A pseudonym I began using way back in the late 1970’s when I first began writing for periodicals.
I chose to use that name because it was easier to remember – and to spell – than Douglas Bittinger. I also felt it sounded more artistic: more…writerly. And since it was indeed my own first and middle names, just deranged, it was still “me” any way you sliced it.
Why Kill Allan Douglas?
So what would motivate me to cast aside a moniker that I had served me well for so long and I had spent so much time building up? I can explain that in one word: Phoneyism.
Minimalist and Minimalism, Dear Reader, are terms we hear bandied about quite a bit these days. So I thought I’d take a look at minimalism in terms of how it relates to living a simpler life. First let’s look at a brief history of the minimalist movement.
History of Minimalism
The minimalist movement came into being in the 1950’s as an artistic expression in which a painter or sculptor would employ an extreme economy in his or her work; eliminating all complexity and reducing the work to it’s most basic shape or form. Using very simple shapes and colors to evoke the emotion they desired.
This trend was picked up in the 1970’s by the performing arts when stage productions were done with no sets and only a bare minimum of props; relying on the performers to convey the setting and mood of their location and situation. A bizarre off-shoot of this trend developed when certain producers decided to take it a step further and put on plays that included no costumes – the performers were naked – or nearly so – as well as the stage.
Last time I covered some of the challenges people will face while setting up home in mountainous terrain. This time I want to look at some of the rewards and drawbacks of mountain living.
Convenience
Before we were married, Marie was a life-long resident of St. Louis, Missouri. She grew up being able to walk to school, the library, and the neighborhood grocery store. Many of her relatives and most of her friends lived right in her neighborhood. When desired, her family could get in the car and drive a few minutes to find most anything their hearts desired. The gratification of going out for something and coming back home with it that day was a way of life.
During my youth, we lived mostly rural. Often in a community that was little more than a handful of homes, a post office and a grain elevator. A few times in a small town with a population of a few hundred, a bank, post office, maybe a couple of grocery stores (just to make it interesting) and a Woolworth’s. Other times truly rural: out in the sticks. We moved a lot, and we preferred a little elbow room.
When Marie and I married, the wisest thing to do was for me to let go of my little rural rental house and move to the city to share a home with her. For a few years I became accustomed to the convenience of being able to buy lumber and supplies as needed for my woodworking because several specialty stores were just a few minutes of driving away.
How we came to embrace mountain living is a story unto itself, but as we formulated that plan the biggest hurdle in Marie’s mind was going to be giving up the convenience of having all the trappings of life so close at hand. Her only real demand was that there would be a Wal-Mart within a reasonable distance … and that we have the fireplace she has always wanted.
Edwina Grocery
Our home place is on Piney Mountain and is within the community of Edwina. The term ‘community’ is used loosely here. Edwina boasts a country store: Edwina Grocery, and a small community center, which is a steel building with one large room, a kitchen and bathroom. It is used as a meeting place by the High Oaks Coon Club, and the Edwina Ruritans. It also serves as the local polling place at election time. There is also a Tennessee Department of Forestry building, a rock quarry, a cabinet shop, a guy that does heating and cooling work and a truck stop/convenience store out beside the interstate, and a Russian-American restaurant called Grill 73.
Grill 73, run by Valentina and Alex Ryzhkov
Grill 73 is run by retired Romanian circus performers! And there is Farmer’s Daughter Nursery and Produce, which is just what it sounds like: the enterprising child of a local farmer. These are all strung out along Route 73, known locally as Edwina Road. There are perhaps a couple hundred homes and several farms tucked into the hills and hollers of Edwina.
From Piney Mountain, Newport can be reached by driving down the mountain roads to Route 73, a winding two-lane highway. Turn south to go to the interstate or turn north to go to Route 25/70, which becomes Broadway, the main drag through Newport. The interstate is a greater distance, but faster. The state highways are shorter but slower speeds. Either way it takes about 15 minutes to get into town. Newport does have a Wal-Mart, but we don’t shop there much anymore.
We have the best of both worlds here. For things we need quickly, Newport – population around 33,000 – is big enough to meet most of our normal needs. For some of the less common needs, Knoxville, Tennesse, is an hour away by interstate in one direction, Asheville, North Carolina, an hour in the other direction. Morristown, Pigeon Forge and Sevierville are in between and reached by state and county roads.
For things we can wait on for a few days, there is the internet. These days we can order most anything we want and have it in hand in a few days.
We may not be able to walk to the library, but the freedom, privacy, and clean, clear air we enjoy so much out here away from all the traffic, exhaust fumes, noise, and regulation of the city more than offset the inconvenience. Here, almost without exception, we can live as we please. We love the peace and quiet. The sunsets are fabulous, the views are breathtaking, and life itself is an adventure.
In the past we would take an annual vacation just to get away for a while. Since moving here, we have felt no need to get away, in fact when we must travel we are eager to get back.
Travel
There is a joke that goes around about how mountain folks must be sure to walk equal distances in each direction, or they end up with one leg shorter than the other. But it’s actually not far from the truth. Where we travel a lot we tend to dig-in or build up pathways to level the surface, but just walking around my property means climbing, descending or traversing steep slopes.
This is our “lawn” the forested parts of the property are steeper. I spend a good bit of my time walking to and fro on our property. Even just fetching the mail means walking 120 feet down the hill from my front porch to the road (that’s the easy part) then back up the 30-degree slope (that’s the hard part) in whatever weather we are experiencing.
The up side of this is that moving around the property to do my chores is a great workout. Think of the time and money I save by not needing to go to a gym!
Driving the roadways here is also a matter of acclimation. When we first arrived I was used to roads that were, by and large, straight. Maybe a sweeping curve here and there, but nothing that would take me by surprise.
When we began looking around this area for property, traveling even the main highways was a stressful task because they tend to be carved into mountain slopes, thus follow the contours of those mountains. Some are worse than others, but there aren’t any I can think of that are straight. Then there are the back roads.
Some of these are dirt roads and not wide enough to two vehicles to pass one another. Wide spots are placed where a recess in the mountain permits or a wide curve can be created. When two vehicles meet, one has to back up to the last wide spot and allow the other to pass. It is fortunate that mountain folk tend to be good-natured.
Most back roads do not have guard rails. At first, the act of driving these narrow, winding ledges with precipitous drop-offs was no less than terrifying! On some, the turns are so sharp that even creeping along at 25 or 30 miles an hour made me carsick as we snaked through one tight, blind curve after another. But, after a while, one gets used to most anything. Now I no longer get sweaty palms driving these roads, in fact I rather enjoy it. Who needs a theme park: we have our own thrill rides!
We are fortunate that Piney Mountain Road is not only paved but wide enough for two vehicles to pass by one another … unless you meet the school bus.
Semi-trucks will not come up our road. At least not the 53-footers normally used by freight lines. I’ve seen a shorty up here once or twice, but for the most part the biggest truck to travel our road is Big Brown from UPS. Therefore, when I order a piece of equipment or other large item that will come by truck, I have to take our pick-up truck and go meet the semi at the truck stop to transfer the crate into our truck for the final leg home. That too is another form of adventure.
All proper mountain men need to have a pick-up truck, preferably four wheel drive. That is a rule here.
These are my thoughts on the income inequality issue. As a long-time business manager and owner I can tell you that while the thought of improving income to the lowest paid among us seems like a generous thing to do, and is probably a good campaign tactic for Democrats, it will backfire. What always happens when the minimum wage is raised is that ALL employees expect a commensurate raise in order to “maintain scale”. American workers demand income inequity. This is how they measure their success.
Small adjustments don’t have a devastating effect, but an increase from $7.25 to $10.10[3] will mean either everyone gets a $3.00 an hour raise or entry level employees will be making as much as those who have been working hard for several years.
This across the board raise in salaries will be a major hit to the labor cost of every company in America. Some companies will respond with lay-offs of the least essential personnel. Most will respond by increasing the price of everything they make or do, thus pushing the burden of this wage increase back on the people it was supposed to help. The end result is that no one benefits, everything simply gets more expensive… again.
As I see it, there are only two ways to achieve the leveling effect the liberals seek:
My wife and I moved here to the Great Smoky Mountains region of east Tennessee in December of 2001. We moved here from St. Louis. Marie was born and raised in St. Louis, a flat-lander and city girl all her life – up to that point. I’d been a gypsy: my family was always on the move but we tended to end up most in Texas, North Dakota, Illinois, Nebraska and Missouri. Flat lands. Marie and I had both traveled through mountains but living on one was a new experience for both of us. One we looked forward too.
Mountain living offers some unique challenges. It shares many of the attributes of any rural living. Most of these I consider an advantage. But add to those the fact that nothing is flat. Anywhere. Everything is on a slope of some degree. Some is mild: a mere incline. Some so steep and boulder-strewn you need rock climber experience to get up or down that face. The majority of the land we purchased is steep, rocky and heavily forested. About two acres are cleared. In this space we’ve installed two homes – one for my mother, one for us – two storage buildings, a large workshop, and two covered dog pens.
Flat Spots
The first challenge in slope-side living is building buildings. Most buildings require a flat spot to sit on. So we must first build the flat spots. This is done with a track hoe or bulldozer. Small flat spots can be done with a Bobcat equipped with a bucket. We don’t want to be hauling dirt in or out if we can avoid it, so we cut into the slope on one side, move the dirt to the low side and pack it firmly. An experienced operator knows just how much to remove to establish a level spot the proper width – and, somehow, manages to get it quite level, needing only tweaking with a transit. This ability amazes me: Getting anything level or plumb by eye while working on a slope is more difficult than you might think. At least, it is for me, a good level is an essential tool here. From that point, home construction moves on normally.
Rental Cabins in Gatlinburg
Some buildings, especially smaller ones can forego the flat-spotting and be built on pylons or posts anchored into the ground. There are rental cabins near Gatlinburg that have their front porch at ground level and the rest are flown over the edge of a steep slope on tall posts. They look precarious!
Access
Gaining access to your property from the nearest roadway can be an issue too. Most residents here don’t want to buy a tract of land then build their home next to the road just for convenient access. Most prefer some seclusion, whether it’s for privacy or to facilitate the illusion of being completely isolated from the rest of the world. Though some I’ve seen aren’t far from that!
Our home at the top of an 85 foot long, 30° steep driveway. 4WD is required.
Sometimes times a driveway can be bulldozed up a steep slope in a straight line from road to home. If you have four-wheel drive you can generally get up such a drive, but coming down can result in quite a thrill ride when it’s icy! For a less insane angle of incline the drive needs to snake side to side with switch-backs to reverse direction or cut in from a distant edge of the property and wind its way up and across.
One of the bigger problems is that anytime you cut into the soil, you create an erosion hazard. Heavy rains cause the exposed soil to wash down into your driveway, often burying the gravel under lots of mucky red clay ooze. Retaining walls help to prevent erosion, but inflate the cost of the driveway exponentially.
To get building materials in – especially a concrete truck – the driveway needs to be wide enough and substantial enough to handle that traffic. Around here most concrete companies have all-wheel drive, front discharge concrete trucks that will climb like a goat, but they still weigh many tons and need some space to maneuver.
Once, I saw materials being brought in by helicopter!
Run-off Control
Once the construction is done, water routing comes into play. Ditches, culverts (called “tiles” around here, even if they’re steel or plastic and 36 inches in diameter) and buried drains all come into play to gather, direct and dispose of rain run-off and minimize erosion damage.
Once this is done we can set about trying to establish a lawn in the cleared area around the house and garden beds for food and/or flowers.
Gardens are especially tricky. For my first attempt at a vegetable garden I chose the most level spot on our property, tilled up an 8 x 12 foot patch and used a cultivator to drag out the grass clumps and roots. Using a square-nose spade to remove the grass would have been cleaner, but the only good top soil here is the top 2 inches where the grass grows (we bought a place that had been settled 12 years before and had a lawn growing already). I wanted to keep that top soil if I could because the red clay below is awful for growing anything.
I planted that little garden patch and was amazed after each rain to find my seedling plants wandering about. What were nice neat rows were zig-zags. The radishes were now cohabitating with the lettuce. Everything was out of whack. Fortunately most of the seedlings did survive their rides and went on to put down longer roots to better affix themselves in one place.
That nice topsoil, however, was making a slow march toward the drainage ditch. I needed to do something. If my test garden worked out, I wanted to enlarge it the following year. But this would mean spreading up onto steeper slopes, and more tilled soil would mean more erosion. How could I keep the soil in place?
I thought about terracing. But this would require either many narrow strips or 3 foot high retainer walls in some places. This would make getting equipment – like a regular tiller – into and out of the terraces complicated.
Then I stumbled onto the idea of small raised beds. I built a series of 4 x 4 foot garden boxes, dug in the high corners, built up the lowest corners and have been quite happy with this for the past four years. In fact, I was so happy with this system that I expanded from my original six boxes to 22!
Last year I did some sprucing up by adding low walls between the boxes, weed fabric over the grass in between and woodchips over the fabric. This looks nice, provides me a non-muddy (soggy after a rain, but not muddy) place to kneel, and keeps the mixture of grass and weeds that served as a lawn from polluting my vegetables when I had to go through with a string trimmer to hack them down to size. The trimmer threw all that debris right into my boxes. Rinsing dead grass out of my crinkly lettuce leaves was a chore. Weed seeds invaded the boxes far more vehemently than normal, too. Paving the walkways between boxes eliminates most of this, and helps keep moisture in the soil.
It’s not perfect. But it’s better.
I’m getting a little long winded here, I’ll pick it up again next time, when I’ll look at some of the advantages and disadvantages of slope side living.
I am normally up somewhere between 4:00 and 5:00 AM every day. Most days when I get up, slide my feet into my slippers, grab my robe from the hook on my closet door and head for the kitchen to make coffee, Cochise will get out of his snuggle-bed at the foot of our bed and come padding down the hall behind me. I turn right into the kitchen, he turns left into the living room, settles onto a quilt near the fireplace and goes back to sleep. After the coffee is setup I’ll give his ears a light scratching just to tell him I appreciate his company then I settle into my easy chair with my Bible to do some reading while it’s quiet. Blondie gets up when Marie does; around 6:00.
This morning I got up and Blondie came bounding down the hall after me. She was all wound up! She wanted to wrestle and was thumping (body slamming) my chair to get me to scratch her. She’d flop onto the floor and roll up on her back for a belly rub… way more energetic than she normally was at this hour of the morning. I wondered if she was excited about it being Christmas morning. She DID go into the dining room to look at the tree and sniff the packages a couple of times. But how would she know anything about Christmas day?
Initially we were certain we wanted a genuine log home, because they just look so GOOD tucked back into the woods and because their solid log walls are touted as being highly thermally efficient. So I researched the various species and shapes of logs used, construction methods, benefits and drawbacks. I read many personal tales of folks who had built a log home, what worked, what went wrong, and how they felt about it years later. In the end we abandoned the log home idea for several reasons:
The minimalist movement came into being in the 1950’s as an artistic expression in which a painter or sculptor would employ an extreme economy in his or her work; eliminating all complexity and reducing the work to it’s most basic shape or form. Using very simple shapes and colors to evoke the emotion they desired.
