The bobcat operator stopped his machine on the top of a huge pile of dirt and looked down on me from his great height. The smile on his face was forced. I knew what he was thinking: “This lady’s paying me by the hour to sit here and wait for her to make up her *&^# mind.” I, on the other hand, was in turmoil, trying to get my mind to line up with my heart and emotions. “Go ahead and do it.” I told him, almost in tears and trying hard to cover it up. He nodded and started up his engine again, leaving me standing there to ponder my fate, or rather the fate of the beautiful row of mountain laurels that he was knocking down to make a little strip of yard for my husband and me to enjoy. Watching them being crushed under the merciless metal foot of the bobcat, I felt the full impact that my craving for more space was having on other living creatures.

Most of a year has passed since that first grading operation began our building project. Since July, Adam and I have agonized over blueprints, haggled with contractors, put down deck boards, put up tarpaper, convinced credit card companies and banks to give us thousands and thousands of dollars, and researched and ordered tons of materials. Watching the house go up has been an exciting and rewarding adventure. Knowing that we’re doing our best to incorporate our values into the structure gives us great satisfaction. Throughout the process, however, I’ve remembered my connections to the mountain laurels that day last July.

America is a country of consumers. You’re one and I’m one. In fact, even the noblest of us homo sapiens consumes from our environment. It’s actually a form of communication; it’s a receiving of gifts. It’s a hard one for some of us to take, however, as we’ve gotten out of tune with the rhythm of giving and receiving with the world around us. Some of us seem to be able to go through life consuming happily, without thought of return.
Even better, some rare people feel the exchange in their bones; they feel their lungs pull in air and let it back out in rhythm.

We have inhabited a yurt, a canvas temporary structure, for nearly five years now, living as simply as we can. From the beginning, we have wanted a “real” house, but we were waiting for the right time and the right resources. When we decided we were ready to start on the building project, we had lots of questions. How can we keep it simple, yet still be comfortable? What are our priorities for sustainable building?

For us, this was the lineup:
1. Build non/low-toxic. We built off the ground to avoid mold, and used low-toxicity materials.
2. Incorporate lots of outdoor space. We have more deck space than inside space, and the design encourages an exchange between inside and outside.
3. Have a low impact on the environment. We have chosen low-impact materials like FSC certified lumber and plywood when possible.
4. Support local vendors as much as we can. Most of our materials have been purchased from local mom-and-pop building supply stores instead of the big corporate ones. Our contractors are local folks with a commitment to the environment.
5. Keep it simple. Our house has a small footprint, and is built on piers to reduce the impact on the land. W’re trying not to stray too far outside our original budget.
6. High efficiency. Passive solar design, high-performance foam insulation and windows.
7. Expandability. The house was designed with an eventual addition in mind. That way, we can build small and inexpensively for now, knowing that we can always expand in the future, if we need to, without moving and building a new house.

We tried designing the house ourselves, with the help of my engineer brother-in-law, who attacked the project with gusto. We only had one little problem. Adam and I couldn’t seem to agree on anything. With the big picture, we were of the same mind entirely; when it came to the details, we had nothing in common, and just trying to discuss it led to raised voices and slamming doors. One of our disagreements was about an architect. Adam wanted one, and I, being the quintessential do-it-yourselfer, dug in my heels. “No way. Architects are for rich people! We live in a yurt, and you want to spend thousands of dollars on some fancy-pants architect??!” After our thirty-fifth argument about the design of the house, however, I grudgingly came around. I agreed to do it only if I found the perfect architect; one who can work with our crazy budget constraints, our crazy mountainside site, and our commitment to sustainable building.

The day after I agreed to start looking, an architect called the New Life Journal office to advertise. I hadn’t heard of him before, but when he brought his ad materials by and his whole theme was “design for hillside sites” and “fairy-tale, woodland elements,” I knew we’d found our guy. Throughout our building project, we haven’t made a better decision than hiring our architect. Thanks to his help and the help of all of our excellent contractors, our new house is dried in (minus a couple of doors). There’s nothing like having a home custom-designed just for you; it really is our dream house! One of my favorite things is wandering around inside, dreaming about what it will be like when it’s done.

In attempting to build sustainably, we faced a dizzying array of green options, each of which looked good at first, but upon closer inspection had a positive and negative side. For example, our framing contractor researched and found some FSC-certified, formaldehyde-free plywood for sheathing our house. Great! But the catch was that it had to be shipped from Canada with high shipping costs and unsustainable fuel consumption. (FSC-certified woods have been harvested with a degree of sustainability.) The good news is that consumer demand has encouraged the building industry to offer many more sustainable and low-toxicity options in conventional building and hardware stores than were available even five years ago. For example, we found that high-tox formaldehyde has been replaced with much less reactive phenyl-formaldehyde in low traces in much interior-grade plywood. Also, traditional copper arsenate (read arsenic-laced) pressure treated lumber is being phased out in favor of less-toxic copper borate treated wood. Originally, we intended to spend the cash for custom locust lumber for our large decks, but we opted for the cheaper copper borate option, and treated the exterior wood with a great nontoxic sealant called LifeTime®, which comes as a package of salts that you stir into water and spray or roll onto your exterior wood. It locks in any chemical residue that exists in the treated wood. We’re going to treat our cedar siding with it, too, and we’ll never have to treat it again.

So what are your sustainability priorities? Building or renovating as sustainably as you can is not cut and dry; it’s a great, big multiple-choice test. See the sidebar for a quick quiz that you can try for yourself to discover what your own green dream home might look like. The challenge is, when you get your priorities in order, you’ll need to reconcile them all with your pocketbook, so be prepared to be flexible. Like us, you’ll probably find that you have some priorities that just won’t budge, then there are others that seem sustainable at first, but the impact they could make on your finances isn’t sustainable at all. Whether you’re seriously planning a green home construction or remodel or you’re just dreaming your green dream of the future, have fun with it! We’ve found that we have had to bend in uncomfortable ways at times...after all just using wood at all is making an impact. But we’ve thanked the trees for their contribution to our house, and we’re doing our best to build a home that honors our land and our hearts. That’s the most sustainable thing that any of us can do.

Erin Everett is the founder, editor, and publisher of New Life Journal, and does her best to walk her talk with acceptance and grace. Check upcoming issues for the progress of her family’s green dream home. Contact her at erin@newlifejournal.com.

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