I'm sitting here, typing, in my warm snug little cabin. Outside the wind is howling. We have had almost two inches of rain in the last twelve hours. It feels like I am in a little toy boat, being batted about by an angry sea.
So far (keep your fingers crossed)...the mud is holding fine. Just a few problems from design mistakes we made (and have yet to correct--gotta get around to that before the daily rains come).
But the "scratch coat", thus far, is not getting wet.
I should have built the foundation up another six inches. The rain is getting the scratch coat a little wet where the foundation meets the bales. Hopefully, a water impermeable layer will correct this problem. It should be okay...
And with major gusts happening, I was a little worried that the roof would blow off! Seems to be holding fine (again, keep your fingers crossed)...
This storm is a major test for this oddly designed (and built) strawbale addition. The roof isn't leaking! It is still attached to the cabin (even with some major gusts). Everything seems solid.
Thrilling! Adrenaline flows!
A feeling of accomplishment rushes over me--not taking my warmth and security for granted. Is this what the Native Folk felt when they rode out a storm? Or other pre-industrial people who survived the elements? Does a person living in Suburban Drab Housing feel the same way I do right now?
This experience (a ferocious storm) connects me with Mother Nature. I feel a part of Her, like listening to Her heart beating as the wind blows and the rain falls.
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