This is our little house. We bought in in '04; in a rush to find a place. This picture was taken early in the morning of the Dec. 19th, before we really got whomped with snow.
Our tiny house.... Only a few of the windows actually open, it has a roof underneath the roof, squirrels and bats live in that odd space; the only heating source is a propane fireplace stove, and sometimes a mysterious smell of sulfur comes wafting up from the ether, so silver tarnishes in doubletime because of it. Irritating. And we do unfortunately have some very entitled seasonal neighbors from Beaverton (also known as "New California") who can be about as pleasant as our sulfur problem. We have a full-time neighbor on our other side with tons of cars coming and going at all hours, and the distinct aroma of a certain type of herb emanating from his house once in a while, and we still prefer them to the seasonal Beavertonites. Yes, they're that smug and annoying.
Issues aside, this is hands-down my favourite home ever. "Why? It's so tiny," you ask. "It's so far away from your job in Portland... Are you insane?" In short, yes. I am insane.
I am an a great advocate for 'living small' and humbly. In fact, I get really persnickety at people who dwell in oversized behmoth houses for no really good reason except to show that they can afford* it. I was even added into an article about small living in 2007. I have wanted to live in a cottage all my life. It probably stems from the heavy diet of British children's books I read when I was a wee thing where quaint Cottages are a mainstay; but a cottage (although ideally mine would have dormers and a thatched roof) is what I wanted, so a cottage is what I got. Okay, so it's still a bit cabiney, but I'm working on it.
We got it for a disgustingly low price as houses go, just before the Real Estate bubble inflated local prices to astounding levels. We were pre-approved for a higher amount of money, but I was determined to stay within our means (and looking at the mortgage crisis, I am so pleased with that decision today), so that (and my being a naturally bad neighbor who doesn't play well with others) led us to a very rural area, and to our little home. Anything in our price range closer to town would have probably involved our having to procure iron remote-controlled security gates and a pack of rabid rottweilers.
Across the gravel road is a row of houses that lines the Sandy River. So we can hear the whitewater rushing at all hours, and access is only a few steps away. At night, it's so dark, you can see the Milky Way. And when you're tired of the commute, then a little snowstorm is all the excuse you need to stay cozied up with the dogs by the propane fake fire with ceramic logs, and sip your favourite tea. We've got deer, and bears and racoons, and all types of forest fauna. The array of birds is incredible.
It's also managable for me when Husband is away on site helping to build wind turbines. Oh, and the dogs do love it too
So this is it. Notre petit maison dans la forêt.
*meaning, in debt up to their eyeballs.