Sunday, 8:30 a.m.  It’s 30⁰ outside the tiny house.  A vista of chandeliers hung from grass, garden remnants and chicken wire armatures.  I grab my camera, stuff myself into coat and boots and head out to forage for texture and composition. 

By 10:55 (34⁰), the sun has reduced much of the crystal to water, save the shadow of my tiny house, which remains frozen to the ground, along with my water line.  Seems I was so absorbed at my workbench last night that I neglected to note the hour and falling temps in time for proactive measures.  The matter is already in the process of resolving itself in plenty of time for my shower.  More importantly...

Happy New Year, everyone!  Wow, 2013 was action-PACKED!  Huge gratitude to the many, who have traveled with and encouraged me thus far.  I am awed, humbled and honored by your company.   I am also, admittedly, late on posting year-in-review pics, although some of you may have previewed the nature/seasonal version in my recent TinyHomes.com post, Book of Days: Tiny in Context.  Here’s the nitty-gritty supplemental, including tiny home-improvements and adventures abroad. Many of the photos below contain links, so be sure to hover your cursor freely for more info, and if you like what you see, stay tuned. We’re just getting started.

See you soon!

At 5:00 in the morning over the tiny house, the nightlong wind has nearly cleared the sky, save a thin veil caught on a sliver of moon.  By 6:30, new clouds convene, puff their chests, huff and dicker over the best shade of wet for the day.  Typical Northwest resident, I had already pretty much forgotten the sun’s recent (was it?) visit, as soon as impending autumn dampened my doorstep trailing its cool company of rain.  In some ways, it’s a relief not to be rent between the sun’s laissez-faire seduction and the hole-up, hunker-down inner workings which require regular attendance and, at times, readjustment of expectation and priority.  So, let’s begin with that loudest of inner workings—my stomach. 

It’s 6:30 a.m. in the tiny house.  A cloudy morning back in the garden after last weekend’s FABulous Portland Alternative Dwellings (PAD) Casa Pequeña workshop (more on that momentarily).  Showers are in today’s forecast: perfect for hunker-down writing, although opening day of the Bayview Farmers Market tugs at my hemline like an exuberant child.  I live in a garden.  Still, the market is one of my favorite Saturday morning social rituals it calibrates me to local community and more seasonal eating habits, since there is always some alluring new ‘carrot’ dangling just beyond my latest radish, pea vine or garlic scape fixation.  Don’t get me started on berry season or the local goat cheese, jams, breads... (Watch the Vittles page for seasonal recipes as they sprout.)

Meanwhile back home sweet home, I’ve finished off a scramble of farm-fresh eggs and young radish greens with a cup of yerba mate, contemplating the details of last weekend’s trip to McMinnville, OR.  Where to begin…?  If I could pick one word to encapsulate the weekend, it would be overwhelming in the best possible way.  Wait, that was several words...  Permit me to elaborate.

My last post summarized my take on PAD’s role in the tiny house family (see Roaming and Roots posted 4/13/2013).  Where the January Tumbleweed workshop (See It's Big, posted 1/19/2013) stoked our imaginations with two days of Dee Williams’ inspiring presentations.  La Casa Pequeña, however, is where the substantive rubber under the tiny house-on-wheels hits the road, (to abuse yet another cliché).  This time, the inimitable Dee Williams representing PAD teamed with the tremendous trio of Derin, Andra and DK Williams of Shelter Wise as well as the petite powerhouse, Lina Menard, of Niche Consulting (see Lina's blog This is the Little Life for more on Lina and La Casa Pequeña) for two days of hands-on power tool tutorials, trailer connection, framing, wall-raising, house-wrapping, window installation and good, clean, irreverent fun.  Derin was our fearless leader in explaining and directing the assembly of La Casa. 



From round-circle introductions through two full days of action integrated with periodic wellness breaks, stretches (implementing DK’s and Dee’s stylistically monikered tighty-whitey stretch), group reflection and the great chicken tractor race (part of the larger Casa Verde green festival weekend), our group hailing from California to Utah and Vancouver, Canada, of varied age and experience coalesced.  Teacher/learner roles shifted between male and female, younger and older, the petite-framed and the broad-shouldered.  Everyone had something to contribute and something to learn all held in the effortlessly (so it seemed) egalitarian container. By the time the weekend wrapped, I felt I had known my fellows for years and found myself disoriented by struggling to remember a name or two of people I’d met only the day before.