Hung out to dry

There is something about real estate. I love traipsing through houses, pretending you live in that perfectly staged living room, spotless kitchen and freshly made bed. So when I heard about zHome, a "revolutionary, 10-unit townhome development that uses smart design and cutting edge technologies to radically reduce its environmental impacts," I had to see it for myself. Besides, they advertised an EV charging station out front.

And impressive engineering it is: the earthwork is a true work of art, moving water around, under and through, using grey water for flushing toilets and irrigation, and double-filtering drinking water. Electricity is generated from photovoltaic panels on the roof, and radiant floors are heated using geothermal heat. Surfaces are honest, responsibly sourced, and the spaces are light and devoid of that "new house" smell.

And it seems to encourage more responsible behavior: having only a one-car garage (and presumably only one car) and squeezing into 1600 square feet seems spartan in these suburbs, where 3,000 and 4,000 square feet and three-car garages are the norm. But as our house ages and demands more of our time and energy, and we look to simplify our lives, the idea of living in a smaller space and with less stuff is incredibly appealing.

We drove up in our red LEAF, plugged in, and started poking around. First up was the largest unit: walk in the door, there's a bedroom. Right next to the front door, with a sliding glass door. A bit public, but maybe useful for a home office.

A bit farther in, and there's a one-car garage. But not only is the charger on the street, but this is a three-bedroom unit, on the far fringe of the suburbs. If this is designed for a family, it will be rough going, as bus service is very sketchy way out here, and there is nothing within walking distance, since the planned community around it has yet to be built. The closest shopping is 20 minutes away, and the city a good half hour by freeway. Maybe both parents work at home, or maybe they're independently wealthy, since the price tag is not within the reach of the average Joe: $625,000.

I peek in the spacious storage closet under the stairway, and inside it is a high tech geothermal heat pump for the radiant floor heat. Lovely, comfy, efficient and truly green credentialed. But some boiler-loving contractor has placed it at the front of the closet, blocking the way to using the rest. Result: a good 15 square feet of inaccessible closet space in the garage.

Up the responsibly-sourced wood stairs to the living area, covered in the same responsibly-sourced floors. The kitchen is stunning, but after the initial impression, we realize there isn't a single cupboard large enough for a stack of plates; only drawers below. The corner features a "lost space" cupboard instead of a useful corner solution, reducing storage space yet again. Back in the larder, shelving and a closet, with--you guessed it--water filters covering the back of the closet. Imagine moving all your stored items every 6 months to change the filter and you start to see.

Top floor, another large closet, this time with a stacked washer and dryer. I love that someone understands putting the washer where the dirty laundry is, but the school of hard knocks reminds me that laundry likes to congregate before washing, sorting itself into pile of like colors and such. Here, since there is no space for even a box of eco-friendly detergent, I can see the piles littering the hallway on laundry day (every day is laundry day when you have kids). And while I love the energy star dryer, I note no place anywhere to put up drying racks; perhaps the balcony, overlooking the neighbor's?

In the end, we are disappointed that so much was done right, only to have these efforts marred by apparent trivialities that work against the stated intent: downsize to one car, but locating the homes in a place that has no transportation infrastructure; use efficient technology and reduce the square footage, but then situate the mechanicals in a way that space cannot be used; and omitting spaces for the kinds of occupant behavior that affects our environmental impact at least as much as technology.

We note with chagrin that the brand-new building next door has heated storage units for rent. Perhaps they saw an opportunity.

Autumn bouquet

I was going to write about how the bouquet of flowers from the CSA this week was significantly smaller than in weeks past, and how the colors are deeper, gold and purple, than the bright yellows and blues of August.

I was going to write about the pile of spent tomato vines piled outside the hoop house, vines that had once climbed high to the ceiling on red string, also now tattered and hanging forlornly from the ceiling.

I was going to write about the spots of fungus and mold on withering plants and fruits, speckling the ends of beans that got too close to the ground and stems that can't give any more. That weekend of rain (2" by my rain gauge) left a scent of decay in the air, so unlike the sweet smell of summer rain.

I was going to write about all this, but then the radio announced that the Chilean miner rescue operation had started, and I turned my attention to the video feed, transfixed like many others around the globe. At a time when our winter is looming, it is early spring below the equator, where hope is in the air in more ways than one.

I am reminded that the life force we see so exuberantly exhibited in the dog days of summer is still very much there: the flowers have filled the hives with honey, and the bees are feathering their nests for a winter of either sugar water (what the beekeeper "pays" them for the honey he takes) or sunnier climes (our supplier is heading to the orange groves of California in anticipation of a harsh winter); the withered heritage tomato vines have produced ample fruit and seed that will incubate, ready to propagate the species next season (they don't know we've consumed the lion's share of the fruit, or maybe they do…) and will give the rest of their corporeal being to the compost pile; the mold and fungus on late and fallen fruit are themselves a form of life, transforming what remains imbued with vitality into the most important crop on the farm: a living, vibrant soil.

As the Fenix 2 descends down the mineshaft, so the life force of the farm descends into the earth; both will emerge in their time in a process uncannily similar to rebirth.