Square With the World and a Friend to Man
At his invitation, last night some of my brother Myron's extended family gathered to scope out the property around their current residence and weigh in with our opinions about the placement of their new house. The house itself is nearly complete, the work of a carpentry class at Halstead High School, about 35 miles from here. It will be moved onto a prepared foundation, and then the cabinets and the garage will be added. Myron and his wife Rhoda specified how they wanted the house done and have worked closely with the teacher of the class while the house was being built.
We began our tour of possible building sites by driving through the pasture to a spot directly north of and next to a small shelterbelt. The cows have had access to the shelterbelt and cleared out the understory. The house would face north and the back yard would adjoin the shelterbelt. This spot felt protected from the trees to the south, while still open to the expansive view to the north, east, and west. It would make a nice home site. Getting to it, however, would necessitate making a long driveway and installing a large culvert to accommodate the water flow through a draw crossing the drive. Electricity and phone lines would have to be brought in nearly a quarter of a mile from one of the nearby roads.
Then we moved to a second spot directly north of the first place, but much closer to the east-west road. It was on a slight rise, but no one outside of Kansas would call it a hill. I could hardly believe the spectacular view from this spot. In the evening light, we seemed high above the shining grain elevators of three towns--all 2-5 miles away. Irish Creek threaded its way along at the bottom of the valley. Trees marked its course. Several miles away traffic crept along Highway 61 and I could imagine the fascination of seeing the trains that periodically move on tracks alongside the highway. All around was Kansas prairie at its best, and over it arched a sky so magnificent that it's impossible to describe a landscape without noting it. The wind was more brisk here, and I can imagine it whipping mercilessly when the weather gets vicious. But I fell in love with this spot. I knew that if I lived there, looking out any window of the house could put a smile on my face. "Put your house here and grow your shelter and windbreaks," I urged.
In comparison, the third possible location seemed lackluster. It was huddled down in a more sheltered area and one end of the shelterbelt was closeby, but there wasn't much to see from there--mainly the trees across the road to the west, and the neighboring farm. Besides, the only logical placement for the house would have put it at an angle with its front facing the intersection of the two roads surrounding the property on the west and north. Driveways from either road would cut across a draw, and utilities would be some distance away.
The house-on-an-angle would be a hurdle for most Kansans. Being square with the world is pretty important in a landscape that has minimal reference points in terrain or manmade structures. Besides, all those references to the "west refrigerator drawer" or the "south end of the dresser" would have to be reconfigured awkwardly with a house askew.
I left Myron and Rhoda a stack of books with varying degrees of pertinence to their site selection process. A book by Sarah Susanka and a book called Patterns of Home are my favorites. Both of them talk about the principle of shelter and outlook in making a house feel like a home. People need to feel protected, but not confined in their homes. They need a feeling of safety while contemplating adventure.
If Myron and Rhoda decide on the prairie "hill" as a location for their house, the outlook is ready-made, but the shelter of trees and windbreaks will take some time to accomplish. That, however, will be a whole lot easier than it would be to try to create a spectacular outlook in a place ensconced in natural shelter. As a prairie child, I vote for the house on the "hill" "by the side of the road." It will be a good place from which to "be a friend to man."*
*From "Let me live in a house by the side of the road and be a friend to man"--a line from a poem whose title and author I've forgotten.
We began our tour of possible building sites by driving through the pasture to a spot directly north of and next to a small shelterbelt. The cows have had access to the shelterbelt and cleared out the understory. The house would face north and the back yard would adjoin the shelterbelt. This spot felt protected from the trees to the south, while still open to the expansive view to the north, east, and west. It would make a nice home site. Getting to it, however, would necessitate making a long driveway and installing a large culvert to accommodate the water flow through a draw crossing the drive. Electricity and phone lines would have to be brought in nearly a quarter of a mile from one of the nearby roads.
Then we moved to a second spot directly north of the first place, but much closer to the east-west road. It was on a slight rise, but no one outside of Kansas would call it a hill. I could hardly believe the spectacular view from this spot. In the evening light, we seemed high above the shining grain elevators of three towns--all 2-5 miles away. Irish Creek threaded its way along at the bottom of the valley. Trees marked its course. Several miles away traffic crept along Highway 61 and I could imagine the fascination of seeing the trains that periodically move on tracks alongside the highway. All around was Kansas prairie at its best, and over it arched a sky so magnificent that it's impossible to describe a landscape without noting it. The wind was more brisk here, and I can imagine it whipping mercilessly when the weather gets vicious. But I fell in love with this spot. I knew that if I lived there, looking out any window of the house could put a smile on my face. "Put your house here and grow your shelter and windbreaks," I urged.
In comparison, the third possible location seemed lackluster. It was huddled down in a more sheltered area and one end of the shelterbelt was closeby, but there wasn't much to see from there--mainly the trees across the road to the west, and the neighboring farm. Besides, the only logical placement for the house would have put it at an angle with its front facing the intersection of the two roads surrounding the property on the west and north. Driveways from either road would cut across a draw, and utilities would be some distance away.
The house-on-an-angle would be a hurdle for most Kansans. Being square with the world is pretty important in a landscape that has minimal reference points in terrain or manmade structures. Besides, all those references to the "west refrigerator drawer" or the "south end of the dresser" would have to be reconfigured awkwardly with a house askew.
I left Myron and Rhoda a stack of books with varying degrees of pertinence to their site selection process. A book by Sarah Susanka and a book called Patterns of Home are my favorites. Both of them talk about the principle of shelter and outlook in making a house feel like a home. People need to feel protected, but not confined in their homes. They need a feeling of safety while contemplating adventure.
If Myron and Rhoda decide on the prairie "hill" as a location for their house, the outlook is ready-made, but the shelter of trees and windbreaks will take some time to accomplish. That, however, will be a whole lot easier than it would be to try to create a spectacular outlook in a place ensconced in natural shelter. As a prairie child, I vote for the house on the "hill" "by the side of the road." It will be a good place from which to "be a friend to man."*
*From "Let me live in a house by the side of the road and be a friend to man"--a line from a poem whose title and author I've forgotten.
posted by Mrs. I at
7:31 PM
1 Comments:
I am so anxious to see the completed product!!
By
Dorcas Byler, at 5/30/2007
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