The interior of my home has purposefully been created to change and grow as I do. Nothing is permanent as my needs seem to morph as I enter into different life scenarios more often than most. I've used my home as storage, uhaul, home for two, home for me, craft station,etc… I have no running water or electricity, but that is how I like it and it works well for me. The sofa on the right folds out to be my bed and the milk crates(which are used as storage) go under as supports. My zeer pot fridge works wonderfully. I have a bucket composting toilet(I only use it when I am staying in a place that I can properly compost), water storage, and alcohol cook stove. I'm mostly proud of my free cork floors as I struggled to understand how to properly install them, but I did it! Nothing is perfect, but neither am I. As I learn more I will improve my home and look back at all my mistakes and see how far I have come.
JustALittleBitOfSpace
Sunday, March 29, 2015
Wednesday, March 25, 2015
When I travel abroad I don't find myself missing what I own, but rather what I have come to call home. The reality is that one small house on two tires does not come to my mind. My past and all the memories, the flashes and voices, I hear like those people are whispering into my ear. When you have more time in life to focus on tasks other than dusting, painting,sweeping, and mopping it's easier to remember home as the communities you were in. The scenery and the sky. The moments that passed by that morphed into fond memories that are now held tightly to enliven your senses and feelings once again. Home is no longer one place. It is the whispers that I hear from the past, the dreams that I have for the future, and the ground that is currently under my feet.
Tuesday, March 24, 2015
If you want to know more, I can show you the door.
A flaming red-pink.
It was hinged to an opening that led to a girls washroom sink.
How many germs on the surface… I hate to think.
Too many slimy wet hands did not bother to wash at the sink.
Its cracked crinkled surface turned into much more.
Its history is what I seem to adore.
I am 24 and I live next door to the poor.
Can't open the refrigerator door without five Women asking for more.
My home is parked on a 4' by 6' pad.
I drive until my spirit is glad.
As soon as the need to travel exceeds me.
I find my willow to weep underneath me.
Books over looks.
Smile over denial.
Sore feet over defeat.
Break bread with more than one head.
No shame. No blame. No drama. No trauma.
Feel free to clear your head.
Sunday, June 29, 2014
Dreamers
Long lines drawn by Dreamers are rarely ever straight, but that is alright with me. There are many factors that gathered to create my dream of building and living in a tiny home. Many more ideas and years went by before I found myself as I am now, writing a blog post,while sitting in my home. In 2010, while working on my families farm I discovered a trailer in the woods that sent my mind juices flowing. I spent many hours thereafter weeding between pumpkin plants and Christmas trees conjuring up plans for what my tear drop camper,home or chitty chitty bang bang type vehicle would look like.
No one in my family ever denied that I would one day build something strange, but when I finally got a picture of the trailer and showed it to my Father his two bone chilling words were "too heavy". I could not believe that all of my ideas and plans were not going to be thrusted into reality. That all of the courage that I had worked hard to muster up in order to ask my Grandfather to gift me the trailer was for no good reason.
For the next two years I remained in Indiana hoeing weeds and selling Christmas trees as that old heavy trailer continued to remind me that there must be something different out in the world. A way of life that I could construct and would fit me, whoever that me would end up to be.
No one in my family ever denied that I would one day build something strange, but when I finally got a picture of the trailer and showed it to my Father his two bone chilling words were "too heavy". I could not believe that all of my ideas and plans were not going to be thrusted into reality. That all of the courage that I had worked hard to muster up in order to ask my Grandfather to gift me the trailer was for no good reason.
For the next two years I remained in Indiana hoeing weeds and selling Christmas trees as that old heavy trailer continued to remind me that there must be something different out in the world. A way of life that I could construct and would fit me, whoever that me would end up to be.
Monday, June 9, 2014
Roll with the Punches
Sometimes opportunities present themselves when plans are made and a journey has already began. What once was a camper, with plans to be turned into a tiny home, is now an all purpose vehicle that has pulled planes, butcher blocks, people, animals, and trekked miles across the East Coast. Will the adventure stop here? Definitely not. Will original plans be continued? Most definitely. Until the time when the wind blows again this multi-use vehicle will remain useful as design and material await to be formed into a humble abode.
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