Twisted Oak: A Journey to Create a Self-Sustaining Life and Home

By Kristina Munroe PE

Twisted Oak is the inspiring, true story of a family seeking a more sustainable life in a complex, technology-driven world. Their journey leads them to build a self-sustaining home and lifestyle in the sunny mountains of southwestern Colorado as they pursue their goal to maintain a balance of respecting the natural world and continuing to remain engaged in the modern world. Follow Kristina and her sons, Austin and Andy, from their initial vision and dream of a more simple life, through their triumphs and their tears as they research, design, and build a home with the support of their family and the skills of newfound friends. Rejoice with them as they learn and find unexpected healing and new strength on the road to an abundant and fulfilling future.

Along with the heartwarming story, Twisted Oak is full of technical inserts and plenty of practical tips from an engineer who not only designed her home, but helped build it, and has comfortably lived in it with her family for over six years.

"Kristina Munroe's whimsical, brave tale begins 'on a dark and stormy night' as she welcomes readers to join her on a humble journey to build Twisted Oak, her solar-powered, rain-harvesting, organically-inspired home -- replete with an indoor tropical garden and loft -- near Durango, Colorado. An engineer by trade, Munroe's words are crafted as intentionally as the tires and timber that piece together Twisted Oak, making this vibrant book ideal for both curious architects and those seeking an energizing story about one determined mother's leap of faith. Twisted Oak empowers our pioneer hearts to keep seeking ways to imagine a more sustainable way of life and, above all, realize that pipe dreams are in fact possibilities waiting to happen. Pairs best with either a cup of tea at sunrise or glass of wine at sunset. Happy daydreaming!"
~ Joy Martin, Associate Publisher MTN Town Magazine

"More than a DIY home-building story, Twisted Oak offers the reader an intimate account of crafting a home and a life from the inside out. With nature and its forces and humans and their follies as collaborators, author Kristina Munroe 's optimistic voice leads the reader through a journey grounded in simplicity, beauty and ecology."
~ Jules Masterjohn,
Editor of Stanton Englehart: A Life on Canvas

• Language: English
• Publisher: eBookIt.com
• Release date: Oct 23, 2017
• ISBN: 9781456630140

Book preview

Table of Contents

Inserts Table of Contents

Prologue

The Moment Everything Changed

The Fire is Lit

The Real Research Begins

The Prophecy and a Proposal

Back to Wildwood Manor

You Can’t Go Home Again — or Can You?

The Move

The Universe Aligns

Back to the Drawing Board

Breaking Ground

Permitting Greywater

Building With Tires

Rhythm and Routine

Tired of Tires

Settling into Fall

Twisted Oak Comes to Life

Weathertight

Winter Wondering

A Spontaneous Winter’s Day

Bringing on the Power of the Sun

Saying Good-Bye to Wildwood Manor

Queen of My Castle

Springing Forward

Summer Fizzle to Fury

The Long and Grueling Wait

Resolving the Floor Fiasco

Moving In

Moving On

Table of Contents Inserts

More About Passive Solar Design

More About Thermal Mass and Insulation

More About Greywater

More About Reusing, Recycling, and New Materials

More About Photovoltaic Solar Power

The Scoop on Poop

Twisted Oak Consulting

More About the Author

Acknowledgements

Prologue

~ Natural Cycles ~

The morning begins in Twisted Oak’s outdoor living space and gardens, where the soft scent of honeysuckle lingers on the morning breeze. The chirping of songbirds fills the air, and a lone cricket adds his melody to the mix. Just beyond the garden, a mourning dove coos softly, and the gentle tinkling of wind chimes completes the harmony of nature’s morning chorus. A lizard darts across the still-warm rocks, performs his morning round of pushups, then ducks back into his hole within the landscaping. A brilliant orange Monarch butterfly lands for a moment on the purple blossom of an ice plant as colorful prayer flags float gently on the morning breeze. The soft white noise of traffic in the distance is a reminder of a fast-paced, hectic world beyond the borders of this oasis.

A warm, creamy beverage slowly sipped and savored while surrounded by nature creates the ideal moment for reflection and gratitude at the beginning of another day. There’s no need to hurry, rush, gulp down breakfast, or battle traffic. The day will still be rich and full, spent exploring an unrealized passion for writing while offering the lessons of Twisted Oak to those seeking another way of life in a modern world. Meaningful, gratifying work has always been the brass ring, and now is the ideal time to share the valuable knowledge accumulated during the journey of designing and creating an off-grid, self-sustaining home and the resulting life that unfolded.

For now, the hot days of summer inspire outdoor work during the cooler morning hours, then a retreat into the always-comfortable tire-wall house to work on the computer or attend to indoor chores as the afternoon temperature spikes outside. The day may very well conclude with supper outside, enjoying the garden and the view surrounding Twisted Oak. After the sun sets, the famous Colorado stars will fill the sky, providing a superb opportunity to share the conclusion of the day with faces gazing upward into a star-filled, indigo sky.

Seven years have come and gone since pounding the first tire, beginning the creation of Twisted Oak and a new way of life. Change and growth are inevitable, and so are the unending cycles of nature. Over the course of these seasons, Twisted Oak and the family have endured marvelous, as well as challenging, events. Two boys have grown into young men, ready to take flight and decide how they will live in this world. The days of homeschooling around a kitchen table littered with crayons, colored pencils, glue, and construction paper no longer exist. Now, young men drive themselves to high school and bike practice. The table, now covered with charging cell phones, laptop computers, and other devices, remains a center of family activity. There have been tearful good-byes to two beloved pets as they completed their role in the circle of life, as well as new excitement in welcoming a kitten into our menagerie of household pets.

A decade of single life and parenting has transformed into a life with a loving man who said yes to two teenage boys, a house full of critters, and an off-grid lifestyle at Twisted Oak. His fresh perspective, experience as a builder, and his willingness to work naturally with the land has infused our home with new and exciting possibilities, helping create the now charming outdoor living space that is just the right amount of organization within the wild land. Natural paths curve around rocks harvested from the property to form gardens. A place in the shade or the sun is accessible nearly any time of day or season and a comfy spot to read, journal, meditate, or play music is always available.

Now, as the summer sun reaches its zenith, the volunteer mullein thriving on the property are only rosettes of soft fuzzy leaves, yet to send their tall stalks to the sky. By the end of the summer, yellow blossoms will cover their staff-like stems and invite hummingbirds and butterflies to find their nectar. As the Autumn Equinox arrives, sweet downy woodpeckers will seek out the seeds, perching lightly on the woody stems. The plant will barely sway under the tiny bird’s weight. Volunteer sunflowers will fill the spaces left wild, creating a canopy of glorious, yellow blossoms. Unrivaled by any cultivated plant, the flowers will attract bees, hummingbirds, and other woodland critters. The seeds will ripen, and the mound of plants will become an autumnal circus. Chipmunks, squirrels, and a variety of birds will descend upon them. The cats will watch transfixed at the windows while the tiny animals climb the numerous branches to gather their winter food. The thick stems will bend to the ground under the weight, then unexpectedly swing up with startled chipmunks holding on for dear life.

By the Winter Solstice, the sun will rest in its low winter home on the southern horizon, and the outdoor garden will have received a soft blanket of snow to cover the plants while they slumber through the freezing days and nights. Inside, the sunlight will have moved deep into the house, where the indoor garden will welcome its warmth and light, showing its gratitude with new growth and voluptuous, colorful blossoms. Winter mornings will begin with quiet reflection, cuddled into a sun puddle in the living room now bathed in the solstice light.

The sun will climb higher in the sky and the days will warm with the arrival of the Vernal Equinox. The snowy blanket will recede, revealing the tips of crocus, daffodils, and iris as they push their way back into the world. Snow melt and spring rains will fill the cisterns with water for drinking and cleaning. The outdoor garden will start to bloom again, producing summer shade as well as homes and food for all our furry, feathered, and scaled friends. The cycles of the seasons will begin anew.

The Moment Everything Changed

Turn your face toward the sun and the shadows will fall behind you.

~ Maori Proverb

It was a dark and stormy night. Like Snoopy, I’ve always fancied beginning a story with that line. As both an idealist and a romantic, I considered beginning this tale with Once upon a time. Since the phrase conjures up images of helpless maidens in need of rescue, and since there will be none of that in this story, it would not do.

So, it was a dark and stormy night.

It was the Northwest after all, and it was dark, and it was stormy. The sky that day was blustery, and the unrelenting wind was blowing the tall cedar trees, bending them dangerously from side to side. But, in truth, it was daytime. I was sitting at the window watching the precarious dance of the trees in the wind as the rain pelted against the window pane. I was lost in thought, although I’m not exactly sure what had been on my mind. Whatever it was, the spell I was under broke with the sound of my young son’s voice.

Mom, it’s time for us to move.

My mind floated back into the room. Move? What an unexpected statement from a ten-year-old boy.

Or was it? I pondered.

I never thought he would want to move, having lived in the Pacific Northwest all his young life.

Why would I want to move? I had lived in Seattle for nearly twenty years, marrying, establishing my career, having my children, and raising them there. Seattle had been home for almost two decades and even our new place in Olalla on the Kitsap Peninsula, away from the bustle of the city, had instantly felt like home. The neighbors on our tree lined road had quickly become friends. In addition to admiring them, I enjoyed spending time with the artisans, musicians, and artists who were attracted to this rural and wild part of the peninsula.

I spent my childhood in Durango, a small Southwestern town in Colorado touting abundant sunshine, plenty of snow, and an arid climate. Entirely different from the wet and green Northwest, water was scarce in Colorado and had become more so in the current, drought-ridden years. Both of my parents’ families had long ago settled in Durango. My immediate family continued the tradition of living in what they considered a paradise and counted themselves a rarity being fifth-generation residents.

On the other hand, I loved the humid climate of the Northwest. As long as I kept physically active, running, biking, and skiing in the endless rain and drizzle during the winter months, my spirits remained high. When I visited my family in Colorado, they always commented on my pale complexion. But I felt healthy, and I liked that my face remained relatively unweathered and unwrinkled. Now in my early forties, I had spent more time away from Durango than I had spent growing up there. The Northwest was home.

The previous years had been difficult for all of us, and I could appreciate how my son Austin might want a new start. Maybe we all needed a fresh start.

When my husband John and I divorced, I moved my two young sons out of Seattle and into the rural setting on the Kitsap Peninsula. The choice had seemed like a natural one. The bustling life and increased traffic of Seattle were becoming more challenging, and with the housing prices reaching all time highs, I didn’t see how I could afford a house of my own in the city. I had been an engineer my entire career, and when the kids were born, I began working part time on residential structural engineering projects, eventually opening a private engineering practice from home. Having control over the day and letting go of the commute allowed more time with our two young sons.

Now on my own, even as an engineer, it was a struggle to make enough money to support two kids barely into their school years. Housing prices were considerably lower outside of Seattle, and since I could work from home, the move made sense. During the divorce, it became apparent we would have to sell our home in West Seattle. The sale of our family home was emotionally difficult for all of us. But it was 2006, and the house sold for far more than the 1995 purchase price. While living in West Seattle, we had refurbished the entire place. I provided the design expertise, and my husband and I had completed much of the work together. Our efforts paid off when the house sold. With my share, I was able to purchase a small and very run down property a ferry away from West Seattle, where John continued to reside.

When I finally made the call to my parents in Durango, telling them I was getting a divorce and moving to a beat up house in the country, I was relieved by their loving response. They expressed their sadness as well as their support. It hadn’t been much of a surprise to them after years of observing our troubled marriage. Dad insisted he and Mom would come as soon as possible to help with the move and the repairs on my new, old house.

As promised, the day my house closed and I received the key, Mom and Dad drove into the driveway with a truck full of tools. We worked continuously for ten days, painting, fixing the wiring, installing missing lighting fixtures, and scrubbing walls and floors, among many other tasks I have conveniently forgotten. Mom deep cleaned all day long and cooked food to keep all of us going. Each evening we collapsed into lawn chairs in the living room and toasted our daily accomplishments with a well-deserved glass of wine.

Work continued on the house over the next couple of years. As money became available, the dirty old carpets were replaced with bamboo floors and the walls painted with the lowest VOC (Volatile Organic Compounds) paint available. Each decision was a step toward a more natural and healthy living environment for our family.

Outside, a garden took form using the techniques I had read about in Gaia’s Garden: A Guide to Home-Scale Permaculture by Toby Hemenway. This invaluable reference book defined permaculture as a set of techniques and principles for designing sustainable human settlements. I had never heard of permaculture before, and this book opened my eyes to a new way of gardening as well as introduced me to the potential uses of greywater. Greywater is the water leaving sinks, showers, and laundry drains. This water contains soap, flakes of skin, bacteria, and food particles. Unlike waste from a conventional home, it does not contain any waste or water from toilets. I was intrigued with incorporating greywater, but it was not practical at this time. Other permaculture methods proved successful though.

A small pond and swing bench sat protected under the magnificent branches of a rhododendron tree. In the spring, the tree blossomed with voluptuous, vibrant pink blooms. Just looking at them brought joy to my heart. Friends had given me plants for the garden, and a myriad of herbs grew among the pathways winding through the miniature oasis. The new garden had become a personal retreat, a place to reflect, read, or settle into the quiet of nature.

Even before the move from the city, natural-building techniques and alternative methods of designing homes had become a personal interest. The years since having children had been spent working in residential construction. With projects small enough to manage on a part-time basis, I was able to build a modest engineering practice. Over the years of the building boom of the early 2000s, I had become disenchanted with the current trends in building and developing. Large lots, once containing modest family homes surrounded by yards and gardens, were now chopped into a multitude of minuscule plots, each containing an enormous house. It was disgusting to watch these colossal homes built without concern for the gluttonous consumption of our natural resources.

As the engineer on these projects, I had little say about the architectural design. Architects design the house then hire someone like me to complete the design of the beams, posts, and structural walls carrying the weight of the building as well as the loads from snow, earthquakes, and strong winds.

In response to my growing concerns, I began studying alternative design and