Home for the holidays

There is nothing like being home for the holidays. In fact, there is nothing like being home. Period.

Last year, home for the holidays meant a visit to Montevideo, Minnesota - staying in Brian's childhood home, visiting with family and friends, enduring blistering cold weather familiar to anyone who grew up in the prairies - be it on the US or Canadian side of the border. We returned to our home before and rang in the New Year in our relatively (balmy) new home in the Athlete's Village, Vancouver, dreaming of what 2014 would bring. 

I must say, 2014 brought much more than either of us could have anticipated. The year started out rather uneventfully, regardless of being quite full with a Masters degree and full time work for me and Brian busy with work and beginning training for his first ultra marathon. 

In March, I sent an email that would change the course of our lives. Over time, Brian and I had come to the realization that no matter what steps we took to make it work for us, Vancouver would never be "home". One evening I noticed a job posting at Vermont Energy Investment Corporation and knew it was the perfect fit for him. I emailed him to check the iPad when he got home from work, on which I'd left the posting open. He knew the company, and following our vacation in Vermont in 2013, we knew the place was aligned with our future, too. After much discussion, he applied; at the end of a two-month process, he got the job!

Life changed immediately. He was allowed a two-month transition before starting, giving us a several-weeks-long period of undoing everything we'd started in Vancouver, plus applying for my US permanent residency - required before I could officially join. Sadly, the process was expected to take 11-12 months and we never really knew how we'd make that work. Onwards, however. We'd figure out something.

In mid-July, when Brian had to move to start work and begin the re-establishment of US domicile required for his sponsoring me for a spousal green card, it seemed unreal. Our paths would be separating for an undetermined amount of time. I watched as Brian drove off with our cat (my new place didn't allow pets), our (my old) car, and most of what the moving truck hadn't packed up in tow, and I settled into my temporary accommodations with two suitcases of belongings plus Brian's bicycle (mine had been stolen in springtime).

Life was lived separately, with a distance of thousands of miles and three hours' time difference. I began managing an Acute Care of the Elderly unit, once again working with the population that I love so much. Brian thrived in his new job and found new passion in working for a purpose he deeply cares about. Throughout this separation, though, there were many ups and downs, but we were always  together. We bought a 120-year-old Cape Cod in Burlington, we worked through each stage of the immigration process (file a document, wait a month or two, then file another; repeat), and we did our best to connect over time and distance.

During my sole trip out in late September, we upturned half our yard to make way for what would come when spring returns. Brian completed his ultra marathon. We did what we could with two weeks together. Then we separated once again, still so uncertain of when this would end. Brian visited Calgary and Edmonton with me over Canadian Thanksgiving. More time passed.

In late October, we received word that my case was completed and I was scheduled for an interview at the US Consulate in Montreal for early December! As we'd miss our two-year anniversary in the meantime, we extended the Montreal trip into a 5-day weekend and celebrated together in gorgeous Quebec City ahead of the long-awaited interview.

December 9, the big day, arrived. After hundreds of pages of documents filed, police checks, a comprehensive medical exam, after a brief interview I was accepted. Then things moved quickly. The same day I returned to Vancouver, Brian to Burlington. Ten days later, visa in hand, job resigned, and remaining possessions packed into a suitcase plus a box, I flew to Montreal. Brian picked me up. An hour later we crossed into upstate New York. After an hour of paperwork, fingerprints, etc. at the border, the friendly CBP officer processing my documents declared, "Welcome; you're now a resident of the United States."

5+ months apart were over, incidentally MUCH less than originally feared - we were lucky to get through the process so quickly! All of the paperwork, interviews, resignations, and goodbyes behind us, WE have begun anew. Just in time for Christmas. 

Life is so different this Christmas, and I am not sure that we could have even imagined what it would have been like last year. Indeed, it is more magical than we could have imagined. We hung our stockings over our fireplace. OUR fireplace. Our tree was too tall for the house, so we improvised and took out a section. We bundle up to face the snow and cold (OK - it's not that cold, but after living in Vancouver for almost five years...). We put up Christmas lights outside. And now we dream of what life in 2015 will bring.

Sofa saga

So this happened:

Why, you ask? Because we bought a sofa.

First off, I have to confess (and my wife would agree) that I make everything into an ordeal. You want a sofa? You buy a sofa! Right? Wrong.

I'm somewhat obsessed with healthy living environments. Petroleum-based fibers and cushions full of flame retardants are, sadly, the norm in the modern realm of furniture. I'm convinced that someday we'll be able to trace some health issues (cancers? allergies? etc.) to our frequent contact with manmade, under-understood chemicals.

I feel like we won the bed battle. I was convinced to do the same for a sofa. Unfortunately, the challenge was formidable. DIY upholstered furniture isn't so easy. And if you've ever looked for sofas sourced with local hardwoods, natural fibers, and cushioning that you wouldn't risk death if you licked, you'd know that you're either looking at $4000+ or trusting one of a few online vendors of questionable reputation.

While a few more mainstream furniture manufacturers mention sustainability, health, or the environment, I've found the majority to be greenwashing. Crate & Barrel, for example, had some lofty statements about soy-based foam and a few other details, but when I checked out labels at the store they seemed no different than anyone else.

Fast-forward about a month and we still hadn't figured out our strategy. Actually, I sort of landed on this: we'd buy secondhand furniture off Craigslist and then pay to get it reupholstered with materials of our choosing. Even if we paid $200 for the piece and spent upwards of $1000 on the refinishing, we'd be well ahead of some of the "green" options. Alas, we're (a) choosy, and (b) no longer live in a major urban area full of secondhand options. It was clear that this strategy would take considerable patience. I possess various virtues; extreme patience isn't one of them.

One day after work (last week), I popped into our local somewhat-higher-end furniture shop on my way home. They had an uber-comfy comfy couch that I'd eyed a couple months back. It was spectacularly orange, and on closeout. Unfortunately, despite these obvious merits it was conventionally built (i.e., it didn't meet our criteria). But f%^k it. We bought it. Having high standards is laborious. We lowered them (this time) in the interest of having a place to sit before 2018.

Done deal, right? Never.

I recruited a friendly neighbor to help me move it in. It didn't fit. Our 19th century house simply didn't have the front doorway to accommodate it. Even had we got it in by removing the header above the door, the upright length of the couch matched the ceiling height, meaning that there'd be no way to tip it down. Our ancient double-hung windows weren't an option.

A day and a lot of head-scratching later, I worked out that if we came in the back porch, angled through the back (kitchen door), tipped down (higher ceiling in this 20th century addition) and lifted the couch above the kitchen island, and shaved 3" off the width of the doorway between the kitchen and dining room, it just might work.

It did. The photos above were what was required to make it happen.

Sure, I could have returned the couch. But that just wouldn't have sit well. This is better:

Seeing that I rented a van for the couch, I multitasked and moved 4000 lbs of concrete while I was at it. And voila, the back drive looks a bit less redneck-y. Sayonara.

Leaf mold

Okay, okay.  It cost more than one'd hope to buy compost to cover our newly-converted backyard-slash-budding-permaculture zone.  So when the autumn leaves began to fall, I was a bit loath to just discard them.  Sure, the city picks them up without charge.  But.  But...

All of that organic matter!...from OUR yard!...how can I just give away all of those nutrients?  That's my biomass!  Yet, a matted yard full of soggy leaves doesn't seem a great strategy.

I did some research.  And it turns out that "leaf mold" is pretty great gardening material.  Here's how to make it:

1. Put your leaves in a pile
2. Leave it for two years

That sounds all well and good.  But I'm just not sure that I'm happy with the technique.  If we had 3 acres, I could find an out-of-the-way corner somewhere for said pile.  Given the plot we have to work with, my vote is for containing it a bit.

It turns out that a better solution, from my point of view, isn't a whole lot more work than this.  It takes a roll of chicken wire and a few 2x2s or 2x4s.  There isn't much to it -- all in, less than an hour's work.  It would have been so, so simple to pay a couple bucks for the wood (and would have saved a stop) but I've developed this annoying habit of avoiding the purchase of any new consumer product unless I don't have a reasonable alternative.  That reasonable alternative is the recycled construction materials shop a few blocks west of here.

Anyway, here you go.  Our leaf mold.  Now we just wait, apparently.  Hold on for an update in 2016.

Junk mail

The amount of junk mail sent here astounds me.  From Day 1, we were getting flyers and mail-order magazines from the previous owners, the owners before them, and a name that predates even them.

I've been waiting until a stack builds up, then spending 5-10 minutes each few weeks to call all of the toll-free numbers to get removed from the mailing lists.  Every operator I've spoken to has been friendly, which is quite nice.

Now that we've been here a while, the credit card offers have started coming.  I did the same strategy here.  All you've to do is call the central number for removing yourself from the list that generates these (it's identical on any credit offer you get, or that I've received so far) and you can knock yourself off the list for 5 years.

There's something oddly comforting about getting home each day and finding mail.

However, it's a crazy amount of waste and I won't be happy until we're down to the bare minimum: bills (those that don't offer paperless options), seed catalogues, and letters from people we know!

Home, almost

As mentioned at the beginning, this place isn't home and won't be until Erin is here for good.

She arrived for the first time, a two week visit, on September 21. It was great. It was fast. The backyard work was a major undertaking during this period; the Oct 8 entry details it.

Aside from that and the Vermont 50 race, we did have some time to relax. My first ever dinner in our own backyard was pretty nice (home-cooked by my vacationing wife!):

The Intervale CSA in Burlington is amazing. Think CSA, but interactive. You don't get a box full of stuff someone else has chosen; you get to pick and weigh amongst those week's options. If you want herbs or flowers or other bountiful, unrestricted items, you walk to the nearby field and pick them yourself. People bring their kids. Everyone talks to everyone. It's an event. Anyway, a vacationing colleague offered us her share and here's our haul:

It was a lovely time of year for her to visit. I'm completely gobsmacked by the beauty of autumn leaves here.

During her stay, Erin did so much to make the place more of a home. Organization, decorating, a few purchases... It's starting to look like less of a bachelor's pad. We have a LOT of projects underway now. Things begin to come together.

Alas, Erin had to return. Now we await her being able to come again...and stay.

Backyard, transformed

Is it a sign that you've reached a certain age when the idea of a garden gets your heart racing?  If so, I'm there.  I imagine that if we lived in certain suburbs, our little-big backyard project could have generated some controversy.  In hippy little Burlington where anything goes, I think we're fitting right in.

Our "blank slate" was this nice patch of backyard lawn:

Pretty, yes, but it didn't fit our vision.  Just to be sure, I waited 2 months for Erin to see the place for the first time in person before I started tearing things up.  That done, it turned out that our collective vision for the place was reasonably aligned and fairly coherent.

Step 1: While Brian's at work, Erin pulls up the stone patio.

Step 2: Dig a hole for the new patio location (nearer the house).  If this doesn't look like a lot of work, then looks are deceiving.

Step 3: You know all the sand below the paving stones?  There's 18" of it.  That's tons -- no pun intended.  Now, move it into the new hole.

Step 4: Take all those stones and do your best to put them into some kind of order.

Step 5: You see that pile of dirt?  Move that to the enormous hole you just dug the sand out of. Then start raking all of the falling leaves into it in attempt to level it out.  And raze that raised bed at the bottom of the yard and use that for filler too.  It won't be enough, so order 5 cubic yards of compost and dirt.

Step 6: Mixed among all those other steps, visit every independently-owned nursery you can find and look for the nicest (and autumn-discounted) trees and bushes you can find.  A small selection appears below.  Plant them.  Rip out all the existing trees you don't want and either transplant them elsewhere or put them in a pile for chipping (there are many more of these than the photos show, extending into the side and front yards).

Step 7: Build a raised bed out of bricks that used to be part of the patio (next year's herb spiral).  Rake yard leaves and debris into the gaping hole one last time.  Begin the process of a thin sheet mulch -- we dumpster dove for these newspapers (printed with non-toxic soy ink) and I laid down 4-sheet layers soaked in water (on the advice of a local gardening expert) and began topping with compost (the cardboard in this photo didn't stay).

Step 8: Define eventual walking paths and garden access with cardboard while filling our excavation and topping it all with a 2" layer of compost.  Then plant a mixed cover crop of Austrian peas, hairy vetch, and oats to get some nitrogen fixing under way -- hopefully before winter kill.  Water diligently.

Mixed in among all these steps were lots of smaller additions (and subtractions).  Here's a tally of what's already new and planted:

- 1 apple tree

- 1 hazelnut tree

- 1 cherry tree

- 3 Saskatoon berry bushes (2 varieties)

- 3 blueberry bushes (3 varieties)

- 2 Nanking cherry bushes

- 2 currant bushes (2 varieties)

- 1 aronia bush

- 1 grape vine (more to come next spring!)

Not bad for this little patch of yard, hey?  Barring the squirrels, someday it's going to be a regular urban orchard...we hope.  We're getting bees next spring -- they'll help bring things to fruition.  There are tons of apple trees in the neighborhood to aid cross-pollination of ours.

Over the coming days, I'll plant some garlic bulbs we've been collecting at the farmer's markets and transplant strawberry plants and rhubarb donated by a generous coworker.  We have seed catalogues already highlighted and dog-eared in preparation for spring planting.

Next year will be interesting!  In the meantime, we used to have a big back lawn and now we have this. It's more impressive in person, I must say, but still very much a work in progress.  Just for fun, go back and look at the first pictures in comparison to this one.

And come visit.

Vermont 50

Something I hadn't previously mentioned was that I've been training for my first ultra marathon. I'd booked a race for September 27 in Washington state. Back in June, when the move entered the picture, I dropped out of that race and registered for the Vermont 50 on the same weekend (September 28).

It was fairly challenging to stick to my intense training schedule during the move and in the aftermath of the unpacking, new job, housework, etc. There's a great running community here, however, and I soon learned some of the great trails nearby and was doing the odd run with others.

The day of the race came, and it was my good fortune to have Erin there to cheer me on (at two spots). It was incredible scenic. There were cows.

Erin greeted her emotionally-spent and utterly-exhausted husband at the finish line.

By the time I was recovered enough to have an appetite, I was so f%^king hungry that my vegetarianism temporarily took a back seat.

I deserved ice cream, too.

Burlington's farmer's market...

...is pretty great. This was my haul in anticipation of Erin's arrival tomorrow!

Bed, part II: Complete

That latex mattress I wrote about earlier? Incredible! Now it just needed something to sit on.

I went through the same process I went through with the mower: looking at the best new option, looking at secondhand options, and then opting to do things the hard way. So I'll build it, I think, and to take one step further along this path of low-impact consumerism meant doing so with secondhand materials. Lucky for us, there's a recycled construction material warehouse a few blocks from home!

I started out looking at conventional dimensional lumber, then got sidetracked by some attractive rough-sawn 2x4s (the sort that actually measure 2"x4", not 1.5"x3.5"). They didn't have the sizes I needed so I wandered over to an unsorted pile of barnwood and live-edge boards. Bingo! I took at least an hour to think things through and build a pile that I thought would do the trick.

This is what some of the live-edge wood looked like, before and after (the after is after more work than I care to elucidate on):

Several hours into this project, it did cross my mind that perhaps dropping a few hundred bucks would've been easier. Or at the very least, putting out $50-75 for nice new lumber. But I was building character (in myself, and into the bed). And making a mess of our basement (it was a rainy day).

Fast forward a big chunk of my weekend. And we have a bed. The plan is to finish it in 100% tung oil, but I'm done for now. It's nice, solid, and it weighs a ton!

Craigslist goodies

Each time we've moved, we've made a chunk of cash by using Craigslist to sell things we no longer need or want. It was nice to do the same in reverse.

In the past days, I picked up a nice, solid bookcase for Erin to refinish when she's out to visit, and a nice little table for our breakfast nook. Whidbey approves.

(Not my) backyard hops

One of the crappy things about leaving Vancouver so unexpectedly was that I couldn't harvest the hops I'd planted on the roof of our coop this spring.

On the advice of a coworker, one of the first things I did upon moving to Burlington was to join Front Porch Forum, a daily emailed digest of news and offerings in the neighborhood. Is this a great place or what?! To my good fortune, someone down the street posted that they had hops to give away. Yes, please.

These friendly folks had been using them as a cover for their backyard chicken coop and it was time to make things sunny again. This was some of the "before".

 This is what I harvested:

 About three hours and ten very sticky fingers later, this was my haul:

The engineer in me had to measure their moisture content and be sure that I dried and stored them at the recommended 8-12% moisture range. I hit the middle. A few days later I tallied the finished product at 2lbs, 15oz. Enough for 3-5 batches of beer. Now, if only I knew which varieties I was working with! The kitchen smelled amazing.

Tomatoes

I have great coworkers. One of them brought me fresh tomatoes.

Treehouse!

Unfortunately, our place doesn't really have treehouse trees. The closest things are a few brittle box elders.

Back in January, we'd planned for me to take a treehouse-building workshop in Vermont and to use it as a mini-holiday. Little did we know that I'd be living here by the time it rolled around! It was a fun week (and I have a great job that allowed me the time off not long after starting!). We built this:

There were Oreo cows nearby:

Bed, part I: Natural mattress

We've long needed a new bed. A full size just isn't big enough for the two of us. I was very motivated to get the house at least somewhat in order ahead of Erin's visit. A new queen bed was part of that.

Step 1: Mattress.

Reading "green" literature takes you down a rabbit hole. There's a lot of unhealthy stuff in the world! And while I don't necessarily think one's gotta go organic and all-natural everything, there are a lot of blatantly unhealthy manmade things in the world that Erin and I have been trying to avoid. We're not chucking out everything we own, but we're certainly rethinking how we approach buying things when we have full control.

Take a mattress. The ones you see in the store are lined with fire retardants known to cause cancer. They've got springs that wear out, layer after layer of synthetic materials, and they smell funny. That smell? VOCs and other nasties. Given that we'll spend a solid 1/3 of our next few decades in extremely close proximity to our mattress of choice, I'm okay with investing some time and money in alternatives. If it turns out that there's nothing whatsoever wrong with the standard mass-produced mattress, I'll have wasted a few bucks. If it's the other way around, it's hard to put a price on that.

It didn't take much research before I honed onto 100% latex. There are a lot of "green" and "natural" products out there with coir, bamboo, and latex, but nearly all of them -- many of which cost $3000 and upwards -- have synthetic layers. No thanks. I opted for 100% latex, 9" of the firmest stuff you can buy, wrapped in an organic cotton cover with a thin layer of quilted wool. No fire retardants, no plastics, nothing. Some assembly was required, but I save $1000+ vs. buying one the old-fashioned way.

The next step was to get a mattress topper. Life is complicated! It turns out that pretty much every topper on the market has plastic layers in it. All the effort of a natural mattress seemed wasted if you're going to put a toxic layer between you and it.

I latched on to virgin wool as a good choice. Untreated and naturally water resistant (not waterproof). Unfortunately, you're looking at $200-300+ here unless you get creative. Rather than buying something that calls itself a virgin wool mattress protector and charges you accordingly for the privilege of buying it, I bought us a twin-size virgin wool blanket on clearance. It turns out that a twin is almost the exact size of the footprint of a queen-sized mattress! It fits perfectly.

And that's that. For now, the mattress sits on the floor. Erin's visit is three weeks away; I'll sort out the bed later.

Homemade soy milk and other wonders

Back in our Year of Less, we dabbled with homemade almond and soy milk. It was just too much work without a good blender or with our undersized food processor.

I'd long been itching for a Vitamix or Blendtec. It was time. Rather than a replace-it-every-three-years foreign-made blender, we went for the gold standard. Something with a kick-ass warranty that you'd eventually repair rather than replace.

I'm not really cool with dropping $500 on a blender, but it turns out you can buy factory-refurbished units direct from Vitamix for a substantial discount. Done.

The thing is amazing. I haven't bought soy milk since! It takes ridiculously little time (and perhaps 25 cents' worth organic soybeans) to make a 1.5L batch. In addition, it makes the world's best smoothies. And if you're a vegetarian like me who sometimes doesn't really like to eat his vegetables, now you can drink them!

Neighbors

The "new" neighbors are retired bakers who've lived her for something like 45 years. They bring me plates like this about twice per week:

Score.

And Rod has every tool and fastener known to man. He's implored me to come see him before I buy anything. "If I don't have it, you don't need it."

Double score.

Have I mentioned that I love this place?

Stuff

I arrived with the truck of mostly-useless items I had in Minnesota. Anything I actually needed had moved with me in subsequent years. Statues, dicksticks from New Guinea, and 60,000 baseball cards have little utilitarian value. For the past weeks, I've been sleeping on the hardwood floor.

No longer. Our "stuff" from Vancouver arrived today. In this giant truck -- about 10% of which contents were ours (most of the rest was headed to Quebec, apparently).

I don't really know where to put it all -- that's Erin's forte -- but at least it arrived safely!

Lawn mower

You have a lawn, you need a lawn mower. My parents had an extra one in Minnesota and it was my original plan to pile it into the moving truck so I wouldn't need to purchase one here.

And then I got thinking: do I really need a gas-powered mower? Probably not.

From there, I started researching push mowers. I found the best model after reading lots of articles and Amazon reviews. Ready to order?

And then I thought, why buy new when surely there's something used around?! I started looking in Craigslist and, sure enough, it wasn't hard to find a bunch for sale.

And then, I was in my new backyard talking to Rod, my 79-year-old neighbor. I told him I was going to pick up a mower and he said I didn't need to do that -- I could have his old one that hasn't been used in years. Bang.

It's heavy. It's rusty. The blades are dull. But the damn thing is solid; no plastic and no Made in China here. Sure, it took a few hours to figure out the best way to sharpen it and I learned some new stuff in the process.

But now our new house has a new lawn mower. It works well and I can mow the whole yard in 10-15 minutes.

Home, sort of

This won't be home until Erin and I are together in it. But it is a house, and a pretty nice one at that. It's got character (built c.1895) and it's easily walkable to both work and downtown. And voila! -- life has simultaneously slowed down and gotten more complicated.

Our 2013 "Year Of Less" project kicked off a number of changes for us that have stuck. We've both been wanting a home for a long time. We have ambitious gardening plans. I'm committed to bringing this 19th century into the 21st, energy efficiency-wise.

In summary, there is a lot of work ahead.