After the astounding Brooklyn window box success of last year, which managed to keep me in habaneros and basil pesto all summer, I was eager to try a real garden. We're in a tough spot with a lot of shade so I watched the sun's path for a week or so before picking a decent stretch of ruddy lawn that has decent exposure.
With only a small car and even a smaller budget, I couldn't go for a proper roto-tiller or similar device and was upset to find that the Power Shovel in the garage is actually a snow-blower. So I dug the plot by hand, using my new favorite tool, a digging fork. It's like a short handled pitchfork but stronger than even a shovel. It tears the earth nicely with less resistance than a shovel. Thankfully, the plot of land I chose tore easily, only taking a couple hours to dig a fairly deep 8' x 12'.
I dug a small trench around the plot and used some fencing that protects shrubs from deer and other animals in the off season in an attempt to keep both deer and burrowing animals (woodchucks, rabbits) away from the vegetables.
Though the excessive rain this June has been a downer occasionally, it has created moody lighting. This pic is shot from the living room, looking up at a creepy building. It kills a bit of the mystery if I admit that it's just the garage that stores the riding mower I use regularly.
They're everywhere. Our first night here, we took a walk on our road (seeking nonexistent cell phone service) and heard a big rustling in the woods. It was just too dark to see but we could hear several deer rush out onto the road, the clatter of their hooves making us wonder if anything was the matter. They just moved off into the nearby field, a regular path and hangout for the local deer. We see tracks all over the place as they will walk past our cabin to drink from the creek.
On a quiet, foggy day, a deer wandered around our property, eyeing us through the windows, preventing me from grabbing the camera early enough to snap a better shot than the one above.
In the first week, we saw a deer almost every day, though fewer since. We also see plenty of woodchucks, and spotted a rarer wild turkey. We're now trying to attract birds and butterflies with some ornamental plants, having seen some stunning goldfinches in the area.
This view a few feet from the door (and even closer to the gray water system) makes the work worth it.
White's Creek, though I can't find any info about the naming of the creek and rarely even find that name on a map.
In order to keep the gray water system relatively simple, we opted for a series of tubs to take the water and filter it through soil, mulch and gravel.
Here's how it works:
Two drain pipes leave the cabin - one for sinks and the other from the shower.
Those metal pipes connect to plastic tubing via a handful of connectors in order to size down from 2-inch pipe to plastic 1-inch tube.
Those 2 tubes run into the first 18 gallon plastic tub through drilled, torched and caulked connections, the water spilling into soil (submerged), then draining down through mulch and gravel.
At the bottom of the first tub, the water runs out through another short length of tube and into the top of the next tub, going through the same series of soil, mulch and gravel.
This continues through two more tubs, with the fourth and final tub having small holes pierced in it to let any excess liquid out into the hill.
Any water that leaves this last tub can be considered safely filtered and still has plenty of distance before it would reach the creek.
Finally, ferns and other shade and water loving plants are planted in the soil of each bin in order to use up the water stored in the soil and mulch.
Building the system took several days of backbreaking labor, the worst being the excavation of the soil for the lowest tubs to ensure enough change in altitude from house drain to final liquid outlet. Challenger for hardest part of the process was digging up plants in very wet, clay-like soil nearby, along with additional soil to both fill the tubs and fill in around them to secure them on the rather steep hillside.
I've never had as many bug bites, mostly from tiny virtually invisible buggers that left my arms freckled in ridiculously itchy bites.
I'm still working on protecting/hiding all the piping with soil and mulch.
So, the toilet is taken care of and earns the name throne since there is a step stool to get your keester up on the high mount. I'm looking for an appropriate scepter to set beside the can for regal moments of relief.
Next comes the gray water system. For those who have no idea what this means, as I did not just a couple months ago, it's rather simple. Toilet waste is called black water, while other drainage- from sinks, shower, or washing machines- is called gray water. There are differing opinions about the disposal of gray water but many feel it is relatively harmless and quite safe for irrigation, though generally it is recommended that people not touch it and one shouldn't use it to water plants intended for eating (where the water might touch the edible portion - strawberries for instance).
Some say you can just run it out behind the house and forget about it, but more concerned citizens suggest filtering it somehow. As we live just up the hill from a creek that soon thereafter runs into a major lake, we felt compelled to build a system that would filter the water, while keeping the construction simple.
See next post for more info and another pic.
I know the composting toilet is very intriguing. Think of it as an elaborate port-o-let, with moving parts and additives. Though surprisingly light and easy to move when new and empty, it's on the large side in order to accomodate for a rotating drum that stores the waste for weeks before dumping it into the lower chamber where it finishes "maturing." This lower chamber stores excess liquid and has a heater and fan that runs out through a vent in the back out of the cabin, then up high above the roof to keep the smells away.
A big part of the set up is finding your spot and plugging it in. The more complicated part is figuring out how to run the vent pipe out of the building and up above the roof. Conveniently, the bathroom and the best place for the toilet is against an exterior wall. Less conveniently, I don't have a power drill handy and wind up cutting through the wall with the combination of an old hand drill (the kind you crank) and a steak knife. Because of a poorly positioned 2x4, I am forced to go out of the wall at an odd angle, roughly 30 degrees right-up, technically speaking.
Surprisingly, this all goes beautifully until outside I realized my other vent pipe connectors will either angle up and away from the cabin or back at it directly, the problem in not going out at 45 or 90 degrees. I discover this at 5pm on the day we start needing the toilet and dash to the hardware stores. There I learn that this kind of pipe is really vacuum pipe, not something they carry nor which I will find within 40 minutes of the area. A more adventurous store sets me up with a rubber flexible connector that I can bend to aim straight up.
Attaching the vent stack to the house is rather easy, though a bit unwieldy in dealing with long stretches of vent pole. However, the toilet goes in and, as advertised, smells less than a standard toilet since there is less water and the vent working to move the smell out of the house.
At least that's how is starts out. Stay tuned for more.
Thankfully, the outhouse was replaced with a small bathroom some years back, though for some reason the toilet has just a pipe curling out under the wall to the outside without going any farther.
Also, with no septic system and a nearby creek running out to a major area lake, a considerate person feels obligated to come up with an affordable yet environmentally conscious way to handle waste.
We've taken a two-pronged approach.
1) A composting toilet
2) A gray water system to handle all other drainage.
As a plumber, I can barely figure out how to plug my bathtub drain in my apartment, so I naturally presume I can work out how to remove a toilet and install a composting toilet. It turns out a toilet is rather simple, a few bolts here and there that can be removed to take the tank off the back and disconnect the bowl from the floor (no water in the system to deal with here). The bowl is a touch trickier since there will be a wax seal that keeps it water tight and keeps it stuck to the floor even after the bolts are removed. But enough tugging pulls it free, though leaving behind a protruding ring of wax. This I could cut away and throw out, though I was still left with another protruding ring of a tougher material, like molded pvc, plus a couple of long metal bolts.
I attacked the bolts with a pair of pliers and managed to rip them out of the floor. I then considered my saw and knife options for the remaining hard material. Unable to concoct a viable scheme for this, I turned to another friendly tool - a hammer. i beat the hell out of that material, forcing it back down into the pipe and pounding it flush with the floor. Then with the advice of an inventive hardware store employee, filled the hole with rags and expanding foam. The foam formed a nice little bubble up out of the floor, like something from a science fiction movie, the aliens coming up through the sewage system. I sliced the alien bubble free, then mixed some fast drying concrete to make a smooth floor again.
Next step, new toilet...
When you set out to inhabit a cabin originally built as a love shack in the 50s that hasn't seen many tenants in the past 20 years, there is work to do. Everything needs to be cleaned from ceiling to floor, wiping away cobwebs, washing all surfaces, disposing of the occasional mouse carcass, or in the case of two bureaus, dumping entire drawers of former mouse hotels, packed full of strange fuzzy devoured nesting material. One of the bureaus didn't make it through the cleaning process, the smell of rotting rodent permanent even after rounds of bleach, baking soda, and every other cleaner imaginable.
In addition to cleaning, we needed to clear out loads of books and other random items stored in the cabin for years. Thankfully, plenty of old signs, maps and lovable kitschy and functional artifacts such as an Native American bust of carved wood and hanging lanterns remain to decorate the place.
It's the dream of many a city dweller. Escape to the country- unwind, enjoy nature, write something inspired. So, when the lady and I had the chance to hole up for the summer in a cabin in the woods, we leapt at it.
Of course, it's also a test to see how that dream endures. The fantasy easily neglects the loss in giving up the city's conveniences and ignores the demands of a small, old house and slow country living.
So, let's see how it goes...
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