We’re currently in preparation mode for our upcoming Japanese guesthouse project. This is the focal point of the 2026 Japanese Carpentry Real Construction Workshop, but it will also be the site for future classes as well. It’s an exciting time, to say the least. I’ve started to submit orders for timbers and we recently cleared the building site with the help of friends. This winter, I’ve found myself waking up early and churning over design details. This is not a small project. But I digress…
Life is full. The bucket that was 2025 proved to be weightier than most, which I wasn’t sure was physically possible. But here we are now at the end. We set a high bar for ourselves this year, and for the most part things went according to plan in terms of workshops and projects. The end of the year always feels like a landmark, but I’m also well aware that the gears never truly stop turning. As I expected, I once again utterly failed to provide substantive project updates throughout the summer or fall, so I’ll attempt to catch you up now.
Our goal for 2025 was this: let’s get as close to the top of that bucket without spilling over. We scheduled six workshops, the most we’ve ever offered in a single season. Three or four distinct building projects, and a smattering of contract work. Pizza Nights continued. An art parade and giant backpack puppet were born.
Right now, I’ll focus on one of our main projects. Back in December 2024, we decided to design our newly-raised timber frame into a usable space for humans (instead of serving as much-needed storage space — I’m still looking for that big empty building, folks). That set the stage for much of our spring and summer work. And this was the first year we did three Japanese Carpentry Workshops back to back, as well. I’ve never run a marathon, but I think this is about as close as I’ll ever get to that feeling.
There’s a common thread throughout the Japanese Carpentry Workshops that we’ve been hosting for 3 consecutive years: pure, unbridled enthusiasm. There is so much passion for this microcosm of joinery, tools, and traditional architecture that it surprises even me sometimes. Students travel here from far and wide, frequently returning for another class. People are absolutely hungry for this stuff.
Why are people so hungry for understanding and participating in this craft? Perhaps because the world of Japanese carpentry goes so deep, is so timeless and beautiful, or maybe because the tools and joints are just really darn cool. Whatever the case, I’m grateful to be able to play a small part in sharing this with people. When I take a small step back, I realize that this is indeed an incredibly special and rare opportunity to learn firsthand from our precious friends and teachers, who live and work in Japan. Even in Japan these skills are kept alive by only a small percentage of carpenters.
Winter has been a dizzying series of snowstorms, flooding, bitter cold nights, tornadoes, and everything in-between. We’re in that sweet transitional spot now – longer days, warming temps, and that spring cleaning itch starts really kicking in. Not just spring cleaning, but continuing on with all sorts of projects in preparation for spring and summer. We’re so summer-oriented around here because the workshops demand that so much be ready and in place prior to kicking things off. This year, our workshop season is nearly a full month earlier than normal so we’ve been chipping away at projects as time and weather allow throughout the cold winter months, including lath walls on the pavilion and infill framing on the “Kentucky kura.”
Each passing year sounds more sci-fi than the next. As a high schooler, I tried to imagine this decade’s calendar. The numbers sounded so fantastical. 2020. 2021. 2022… 2025. And yet here we are now, living through them. Turns out they’re just numbers, for the most part. The giant wheel of time turns on and on. The Year of Mud was, according to official records, back in 2008. That’s shockingly close to 20 years ago at this point.
How do you mark time? At the end of the year, April and I sit down and draw out different events or memories that have transpired in the last 12 months. It’s a fun exercise. It helps shine a light on some of the smaller moments, too — in late May, Kohei-san and Jon Billing arrived for our Japanese Carpentry Workshop. Within 5 minutes of arriving, Kohei-san asked “so what do you want to do next year?” I cracked up, probably because I too am always thinking forward, thinking about what’s next, and generally just scheming. My brain is very future-oriented, for better or worse.
We had an especially mild fall this year. We didn’t get a hard frost until at least late October, or even early November. It was bone dry for weeks on end and the daytime temps were delightfully mild. Normally, when late fall lands this place turns into a cool, muddy swamp — not usually the most inspiring conditions for outdoor work, you know? Instead, the building season was graciously extended by a few precious weeks.
I decided to take advantage of this dry, mild window to make some progress on the pavilion plaster work. This felt like a big treat at the end of a busy year. I’ve been doing so much carpentry work the last two years that this recent opportunity to throw up some lath and plaster walls brought me some real joy.
Over the past month, Nick and I have been working to complete the slate roof on the new timber frame. Slate is nothing more than split stone “hung” with copper nails on a roof deck. The genius of slate lies in its simplicity. It’s literally stone roofing, and incredibly durable and beautiful. Nothing more, nothing less. Slate happens to excel in this roofing context, and humans have devised ways to work with this natural material to create incredible structures for many generations.
This summer, we hosted four workshops — two Japanese Carpentry classes, Natural Building Essentials, and Timber Framing. This was the first summer we’ve been able to use the new timber frame pavilion, now that the floor is complete. It’s made a huge difference in how we host classes and the overall feeling during events.
The first proof of that was during our Japanese Carpentry Workshops — no one wanted to quit working on their joinery projects in the evenings. (We had workspaces filling up the entire pavilion.) The calm setting, lighting, and overall good feelings all helped. In fact, we had to set quiet hours so people could sleep because students kept chiseling until 10:30 or later at night – ha! I love people’s energy and enthusiasm.
Whenever you have a quiet evening, I highly recommend you check out this 50 minute documentary about plastering craftsmanship in Japan. I’m not sure when this was produced, but not anytime too recently. The production has that smooth, slow, gentle vibe that will whisk you away. You don’t need to understand Japanese to glean a lot of valuable information about the process and workflow of creating beautiful clay and lime walls. Much respect to the sakan. This is heavenly.
If you’ve been here, you know him
Here is a very very trimmed down look at the last 6 months, via pictures with brief captions. Every couple of months I think about updating this blog. But then I can barely muster the mental fortitude to write coherently. So — why not just throw this out there instead?
Hi there, I’m Ziggy. In 2008, I launched The Year of Mud while building my first natural home. This blog is a collection of personal stories and experiences building with clay, straw, and wood over the past 15+ years. A few of the things that get me fired up are natural plasters, timber framing, & Japanese architecture. Since 2012, we’ve been hosting Natural Building Workshops so you can learn essential skills to build your own natural home.
