April and I are definitely enjoying the Morso 1410 Squirrel stove. I’m happy with the performance of the tiny stove, and it’s beautiful, too, especially when a big ol’ fire is roaring inside.We have started cooking on the Squirrel as well, and it’s proving to be very capable.
Here’s something interesting from the New York Times. Michael Pollan has written up an essay about a 36 hour dinner party, based around the use of a cob oven, no less. Pollan notes that the party’s inspiration was ” the communal ovens still found burning in some towns around the Mediterranean, centers of social gravity where, each morning, people bring their proofed, or risen, loaves to be baked. (Each loaf bears a signature slash so you can be sure the one you get back is your own.) But after the bread is out of the oven, people show up with a variety of other dishes to wring every last B.T.U. from the day’s fire: pizzas while the oven is still blazing and then, as the day goes on, gentle braises or even pots of yogurt to capture the last heat and flavors of the dying embers.”
I love stuff like this. I love food, people getting together to cook, using wood heat, quality ingredients, mmm, yea. Interesting. And of course, it’s especially cool that this group used an outdoor cob oven for their cooking!
Don’t forget to check out my how to build your own outdoor cob oven for pizza and bread.
I’ve been enjoying the addition of the completed mud room to the house. It makes for a convenient place to kick off shoes, hang up jackets and other items that don’t clutter the house, create a better transition inside, and it gives us a tiny extra boost in the storage department! Click ahead for a few photos of the final room.
Test firing the Morso 1410
It’s done! We’ve got a fully functioning woodstove, with the stovepipe penetrating the living roof of the house, all sealed up and complete. So how did we do it? How did we send a stovepipe through the EPDM liner of our living roof?
A couple of weeks ago, we got around to re-plastering the north side of the house (most of the plaster on the lower half of the wall was completely weathered away), the east, and the finished mud room. April slaved away on this mosaic above the bench and around the window that day, and I think the final product is really swell. The stones are from a Tennessee river bed and the white pieces are broken tile.
The grape vine (to the left in the photo) exploded with all of the rain this year, and it frames this mini seating area and has climbed well up onto the roof. The bench itself is cantilevered in the wall — two roundwood branches (one osage orange, one black locust), and the boards are hand-planed and oiled black walnut. It’s cozy!
Drilling through 20" of cob
The latest (and most urgent) house project has been installing the stovepipe for our new Morso 1410 (Squirrel) woodstove. After some careful consideration, we decided how to install the pipe. We’re about halfway through the process, but the hardest part has yet to come…
A couple of weeks ago, April, Thomas, Ali and I worked on deconstructing a house in town a few miles from Dancing Rabbit. It was pretty grueling work, but I think it was worth the effort. We walked away with a goodly stack of dimensional lumber and some other miscellaneous materials.
You can read the article about my cob house that was published in Yes! Magazine online. Check it out.
Dearest friend and fellow Dancing Rabbit member, natural builder, gardener, fiddle player, yoga teacher, (hell, life teacher), and just simply an amazing human being, Tamar died on Sunday, September 12th. I’ve had the oh-too brief fortune to know Tamar for three years while living at Dancing Rabbit. Last fall, Tamar’s health took a sudden turn for the worst when she was diagnosed with cancer. Since that fateful autumn, she has been through much pain, as have those many family members and friends who have been witness to her suffering. It has been one hell of a journey, the difficult end of which has come on a incredibly sunny, breathtaking September afternoon, with Monarchs bringing fluttering, fleeting color and beauty to the prairie. How fitting a day for the death of such an amazing individual.
Tamar has left a mark on many of those people who have crossed paths with her, and I am no exception. She had been a big inspiration throughout the building of my home, and her colorful mosaics grace its cob walls. She has left behind many reminders of her beautiful (but too-short) life here at Dancing Rabbit, and for that I am extremely thankful, and I am indebted to have known such an amazing person and friend.
Here’s to you, Tamar. You are missed.
On July 11, 2009, I moved into my newly completed cob house. It’s now been over a year since the move-in, and there have been many learning lessons along the way. I’d like to present a number of those lessons here in my one year report of living in a cob house.
Here we go…
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.
