In memory of Bob
 
It was 2022, and I was on a road trip to Portugal. At the time I was on a bit of a reconnaissance mission, and central Portugal with its pretty river beaches and the great star-draped Serra da Estrela was attractive. I also had friends in the area. One day, one of those friends took me to visit Bob’s place.

“I’m an old hippy,” Bob said a little unnecessarily, when he looked up. He was a man with long frizzy grey hair, and he was in the process of sanding an exquisite wooden door frame in the shape of a tree. Sighing a little, the man downed tools. I knew the feeling. We were stopping him in the middle of a creative streak.

“I don’t have many visitors here. Don’t really like them,” he smiled wryly, eyeing me a little suspiciously. I guffawed out loud. Talk about mirror image!

“I hear ya, Bob. We did get an invite though. We won’t keep you long. Did you make that door frame? It’s absolutely divine.”

Bob puffed up a little. “Yeah, but it's Tiago who's my main man for carpentry. I was in India for years, built some stuff up there. Then I came here.”

“Oh, I love India! I keep thinking I might retire there.”

“Hmph. It’s changed,” Bob said, sniffing. “Alright, come on, I’ll show you around.”

​Thus began the grand tour that popped my eyes right out of my noddle.

It was early May and the temperatures were rising. The grass was turning pale brown, and everyone was already starting to talk about fire season.

“They keep telling me to cut all this down,” Bob said as we walked through the land, his hand sweeping one corner of a few hectares full of beautiful pine trees and shrubbery. “Damn strimmers. Hate them. That noise is bad for your health. So I cleared it gently, over years, by hand.”

As you can imagine, I was warming to Bob. “I’m the same. I scythe my land. It’s such a beautiful practice. You won’t get a fire while you’re here Bob,” I said. “You’ve listened to Gaia. She’ll protect you. I’ve experienced that myself—the fire’ll come everywhere, but not here.”

Bob turned to me and looked me up and down. The angle of his eyes changed. I’m guessing he didn’t hear this kind of thing often, and I noted the shift in tone. “You’re right,” he said thoughtfully. “You’re absolutely right.” From then on in, he couldn’t stop talking.

​And me? I couldn’t stop gaping.

Bob’s world was completely off-grid, and his massive solar power rig was on wheels, designed to move in case of a fire. Pure spring water came from a well. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like Bob’s place in terms of quality and beauty. He was an exceptional visionary and gatherer of talent, as the photos show.

First we looked at three gorgeous small circular cob cabins. Each had a different elemental theme: Water, Earth, and Fire. The cob had been carved by local artists to create sculpted masterpieces.

​“Took ’em ages because they sculpted as we built,” he said.

Passing the huts one by one, we hiked to a far corner of the land to a small stone hut with a slate roof.

“I’m really proud of this. We made this without any power tools. Even the wood was cut by hand. Everyone moaned like hell about it, but I stuck to my guns.”

As we walked inside, I marvelled at the beautiful stonework. “What’s it for?” I asked.

“I wanted it to be a sound therapy room. That’s why there must be no bad noise in the building, because the stones would hold those shitty vibrations. This is a healing space.”

​As you can imagine, by this point I was on the verge of asking to move in.

Next, we trekked through the pine trees and drying grass to the opposite end of the land where Bob had built a massive open kitchen with a cob oven.

“I think I’d like this place for festivals. You know, a gathering place.”

“But you don’t like visitors!” I chuckled.

​Bob chewed on that a while. To be honest I totally got it. He was an extroverted introvert like me, who actually loved to show people around and display his work, but also needed to be quiet and get on with creating things.

The grasshoppers were strumming heavily in the afternoon sun now, and I savoured the aromatic smell of the pines, and the crunch of their needles underfoot. It was now that we came to the most enchanting bathroom. The stone and mortar work was stunning. This little hut housed a charming composting toilet. Bob had a thing about doors though. Each one was a work of art. The bathroom door was a circle of decorated wrought iron (see the second photo from top of the article) that would have made Bilbo Baggins eat his heart out.

Finally, a short trudge later, we came to Bob’s pride and joy. It was a huge ornate wooden structure, mostly handcrafted by Tiago the Portuguese carpenter. Honestly? I’ve never seen anything this clever and creative in all my born days.

“This…” said Bob waving his arm with a flourish, “is where I park my truck.

To call this a van garage however, is something of an understatement. No one in the world has a truck park like this. It was in fact a spectacular wooden encasement for Bob’s mobile home, which in itself was a work of art.

“I live in here,” he said happily. It’s a bit of a mess inside, because my girlfriend isn’t here,” he chortled.

The truck was a split-level affair complete with wood burner and the most stunning copper door frames. On the exterior, Bob had built a huge chestnut-roofed platform that was his living space. Even the drainpipes were natural and made by hollowing out thick pine branches!

“I’ve designed the whole structure so I can drive the truck in and out, so that if there is a fire, I can still move it.”

Bob was a free spirit, and had spent much of his life on the road. But he wasn’t an aimless drifter. You see, there is a difference between lost wanderers and renaissance edge walkers who can manifest worlds. Bob didn’t travel to escape. He chose his destinations carefully, and part of the premise was: Where can I build what I want to?
​
Natural builders often aren’t rule abiders. They are creative powerhouses that refuse to be cowed into a box, and will find any crack in the matrix they can to forge a vision.

Six months after my visit to Portugal I received a message from my friend. Bob had been diagnosed with terminal cancer. It couldn’t believe it actually, because he had looked supremely fit when I saw him, a natural health fanatic who had chided me even for wanting a bit of cake. “Sugar! Pah! Terrible stuff. I’ll make you a natural juice instead.”

A few months later he left his and our world. But his legacy remains hidden in the folds of central Portugal. It’s a legacy that says:

“He who dares, dodges, and loves the Earth, wins.”

Life is unpredictable. Bob, only in his sixties, died too soon. Even so, he had lived richer lives in those years, and fulfilled more dreams, than most ever do. Regrets? I’m guessing he didn’t have too many.

​I would say R.I.P. Bob, but I doubt wherever his spirit is now that he’ll be resting.

You can see the full photo album of Bob's place here. Many thanks to the photographer for sharing.

Did you enjoy this article? Do you like the fact there are no ads, click bait or pop ups on this website?
The Mud Home holds hundreds of articles on natural building how-to and inspiration, all free to the public without any advertising. This is only made possible because people support it on Patreon. Please consider chipping in. Any amount is appreciated.

All patrons get A LOT of perks, including videos, exclusive updates and a place to ask questions.

One man’s battle against conformity to create a beautiful straw bale home.

​I love to hear of people beating the odds to build a natural home. And we all have different odds to beat. Nad Kad and Sue’s beautifully crafted straw bale and clay home in Iowa is a testament to resilience and perseverance. It took six years to create this beauty. Many times Nad wanted to give up. He was (as we natural builders so often are) faced with ridicule and a lack of encouragement. But he prevailed, and now gets to spend the rest of days lounging in front of his stunning rocket stove with a cup of cocoa in his hand and wry smile on his lips.

But why did Nad even take on this mud and straw mission in the first place?

“I stumbled across cob homes on the internet and fell in love with the organic shapes and apparent ability to be built by a non-builder,” says Nad. “Eventually, I found straw bale homes and thought they would fit better in our very cold winters.”

Sounds like a great plan! Straw bale homes are indeed snug and highly insulating.

​“I was very attracted by the energy efficiency of clay, the ability of clay to moderate temperatures and humidity...and I loved the look of clay walls,” he adds. And thus a dream was born.

Moving from Research to Action 
Everyone goes on their own journey when they build their own home. Unlike my gung-ho, let’s-dive-in-and-give-it-a-go approach, Nad is a careful researcher. He has built a home for the long haul, and it was no mean feat. This is a very large build for a first attempt, and executed with professionalism throughout. It wasn’t easy, though. You have to be a certain kind of person to stick with a house build for six years.

I’ve been studying different approaches to building for a while now. Everyone is unique. However, usually it’s the leapers who make it happen, as the researchers seem to get stuck on a Mobius strip of YouTube videos. Nad Kad is one of the rare few who did the painstaking research and then got off the blocks. And how!

“I did ten years of research, reading about methods and asking questions in natural building Facebook groups. I learned as much as I could at a desk and as soon as we moved back to the US (we had been in the Philippines), I joined a three-day natural building workshop and it really excited me. That was the push I needed to believe I could build a house.”

​This is a great piece of information, because somehow you have to find a way to shift yourself from the head stuff to the action. Nad did it with a workshop.

Weather and Work
This house is a testimony to patience and resilience. It took Nad six years of slog to build his home, and he had to take frequent breaks.

“I was working a part-time job...I could not work on my home until July each year, and then I could only work on it up until freezing weather”.

​Weather is an important consideration in building. I know when I moved to rainy northern Spain, I hadn’t factored just how many days would be cancelled because of the wet. Snow is worse! It completely brings things to a standstill.

Overwhelm

However, it wasn’t simply the weather Nad was battling against. Building a home can feel pretty hardcore some days. Once you start, you realise you need a lot more psychological tools in your toolbox than you do screwdrivers and spanners.

“I was stressed each time the project took a turn. I would spend weeks or months between each phase in order to regroup, build up my knowledge of the next task, and work my courage up for the next challenge.”

​I think all builders know this feeling. You’ve got the foundations in, and then suddenly it’s the walls or the roof, and you’re like, “Oh my Lordy Lord, this is huge! How will I do it?”

A Helping Hand
Nad has been very open and honest in this interview, which is so much more helpful than a bunch of bravado. He did millions of things right throughout the project, utilising all the resources available to him. But I suspect his most intelligent decision was to get a bit of help in at the right time. Too many people turn stubborn (ahem) and let pride start ruling the project. It’s usually fatal. No one on the face of the Earth truly builds alone. There are always people in the background helping lift heavy beams, preparing meals, or washing clothes.

Talking of which, where’s Sue? Well, she spent those six chilly, mud-spattered years in a mobile home, keeping Nad fed and watered, so she deserves her own medal. People have divorced for far less, after all. He he.

​“Once the walls were up I could work through the winter. That definitely sped up the process,” explains Nad. “Before the interior work was started, I met a natural builder, Jim Schalles, and that really helped the project move forward. He worked for me two to three days a week and he worked every bit as hard as me, maybe even harder. He also allowed me to eliminate the pause between phases. His knowledge and experience were immensely beneficial.”

The Importance of the Visionary
I would say here, Nad is being humble though. Because projects do have owners or leaders, and they are the make or break of it. It’s ultimately that person’s drive to keep going and ability to hold onto the vision in the face of adversity, that makes a house appear. Credit where credit is due!

What were Nad’s biggest challenges?
So we have weather, part-time jobs, and overwhelm. But what was the biggest challenge?
“There were so many decisions that became fatiguing for me. Also the danger of making a mistake in my processes and materials...These decisions often were made during the breaks...and that caused me to dwell on them, go into a depression and really struggle to push forward.”

I really get this. My advice to anyone feeling paralysed by the sheer scale of the task at hand, is to break it down into the smallest chunks possible, and just tackle the first small step without worrying about the second or third. It’s amazing how as soon as you’re off the blocks, the thing seems to just happen.

A cultural mandate:
“Another major challenge was the cultural mandate to be just like everyone else. Real pressure to abandon the build was exerted over and over. Those people said I was giving the community a reason to ridicule me. No one should take six years to build a house, they said. If I had used ‘normal’ materials, I could have had a house in a few months.”

Yeah, but it wouldn’t have been your house, Nad. It would have been a soulless sheetrock box.

I used to think I was receiving this kind of negativity because I’m a woman. But I’ve since learned, numbskull comments are the knee-jerk reaction of a mainstream that hasn’t even the courage to support what you’re doing, never mind actually do it! Personally I think this is going to be any natural builder’s greatest obstacle. You just have to shut out the naysayers, keep your vision in your head, plough on regardless, and wait for the day when those same people’s jaws drop.

Overcoming the challenges​
So how did Nad deal with those difficult pauses, and where did he find the courage to keep going?

“First, thinking about the entire process of building as a huge experiment. Second, my wife was an encourager. She pushed me when I was frozen. When I was really stuck she would say the dreaded words, ‘We can just buy a prefab home’, and that would shock me out of my inactive period.”

He he, yes there’s something in this. I often wonder if I’d have built anything much had I not had the spectre of winter breathing down my neck. Sometimes fear of the alternative can galvanise us.

Nad and Sue’s straw bale home has had years of sweat and love poured into it, and it shows. The final result is magnificent. It boasts so many extraordinary features, I can’t cover them in a single post. There is the massive and beautiful cob rocket stove, a cob island in the kitchen, a cob bathroom sink, gorgeous earthen floors, and (my personal fave) a beautiful burnished kitchen backsplash, which I’ll be covering in the next article.
​
Things we can learn from Nad’s Build:

1. Hire professional help when you’re tired or stuck. I cannot state enough the value of this. I’ve found hiring a tradie incredibly helpful on multiple levels (and a lot more fun), especially in an area I’m not so experienced. You not only get the job done, but you learn new skills in the process, so you get a teacher and a worker all in one!
2. It’s good to research, but it’s absolutely critical to move from YouTube and books to action. A live workshop is a great way to do this.
3. Don’t listen to negging neighbours/peers/semi-distant family. Seriously. They have never once been right.
4. Do listen to your spouse if you have one. You’re in it together, they often see things you don't, and they’re the only one who really understands what it takes.
   

You can see more of Nad Kad's work on Facebook HERE.

Related Links:

• How to Build a Straw Bale House
  
• My Greatest Obstacle 
  
• The Builders’ Road to Enlightenment
  

The Mud Home needs support to continue. If you are inspired by these stories, or find the hundreds of free informational articles on this site useful (and enjoy the fact there are ZERO ads popping up in your face), please do consider making a pledge on Patreon.

All patrons get a lot of perks, including personal update videos, The Mud Home podcast, email priority, and more.

Special note: I have two in-person workshops in the pipeline at Orchard Barn. If you'd like to be the first to hear about them, get onto my email list here.

A couple of weeks ago I helped out at a wonderful place in Suffolk called Orchard Barn. I’ll be writing more about this inspiring project in the coming months, but in brief, Orchard Barn is an environmental and heritage centre specialising in traditional local building methods. They take in volunteers for various natural building projects, and are particularly well-known to me because of their extensive use of traditionally-made roof shingles, something I’m can't wait to cover at a later date.
​
But for today, the project I was helping out on was simple, inexpensive, and something anyone could do: A deadwood screen.

Deadwood Screens
There is a frustrating tendency for moderns to deem their prunings and cuttings as rubbish. So what do they do next? Burn the cuttings in a bonfire, or send them to the tip. The next thing they do is go and buy fencing. But...there is another way! We can make deadwood screens instead.

How to make one?
As you can see below, the larger and thicker branches are cut into posts. Two rows of these posts were stuck in the ground. This was already done when I arrived.
​
Next we lopped off longer, bendier branches, clipped them clean, and wove them in and out of the posts, a bit like a wattle. You end up with two wicker walls.

All the small clippings and trimmings of wood were then chopped and used to fill in between the two woven screens.

The result is a tough screen, tough enough to fend off sheep, for example. A deadwood screen can be used to fence off areas of land, it can create a compost area, firewood storage enclosures, or a simple barrier to separate one part of a garden or land from another.

Animal-Friendly and Encourages Diversity
The deadwood screen also creates a home for small (often endangered) wildlife like shrews and hibernating hedgehogs, and gives them a hiding place from predators. It  creates a habitat for nesting birds and other small creatures, too.

Related Links:​
You can read more about Orchard Barn, or follow them on Facebook.
They have also made a nice little video documenting the deadwood screen.

I have two in-person workshops in the pipeline at Orchard Barn. If you'd like to be the first to hear about them, get onto my email list here.

I’ve run natural and sustainable building workshops all over the world, and I love it. It gives me great satisfaction to enable people. But what do those who’ve participated think? I’ll hand over to them in the comments.

I’ve seen some brilliant projects in my time. But D’Annies farm? Honestly it’s the most extraordinary thing I’ve ever seen. I could probably write five articles on it and still have left things out.
​
Usually, we homesteaders specialise in one particular area. It might be the mud building. It might be a permaculture success or a small holding. If a project is succeeding in more than one area, often it’s because it’s a community project. D’Annie’s isn’t that. This incredible earthbag wonderland is the brainchild of a little 55-year-old suburban woman called Annie, and has been built by her, with some help from her old friend and right-hand man Danny (hence D’Annies).

How it began
Three years ago, Annie was a middle-aged mother leading a typical life in the suburbs of Adelaide. Then the pandemic hit, and she suddenly felt a push to leave the madness behind. She sold her house and quickly found this beautiful piece of land. Thus began a life-changing adventure. Wow!
​
Many things are remarkable about D’Annie’s farm. For someone with zero building experience, this is a staggering engineering feat. Here we have two massive earthbag buildings, a food forest in a desert, a fully functioning off-grid set up, livestock, a large aquaponics greenhouse, a massive polytunnel, beekeeping, rainwater harvesting, composting toilets...the list goes on and on. And she’s only been here three years!

The ace up her sleeve
It’s one thing to build an earthbag structure or two. It’s quite another to do this off-grid in the middle of the Aussie bush with no running water, no power grid, and a very shaky mobile network. Don’t ask me how she does it. I was completely mind-blown when I saw it.
​
“I’m ex-military,” says Annie, with a wry grin. “So I have some experience with setting up a camp.”

I suppose if you’ve trotted across the Nullarbor in combat gear with a SLR rifle on your back, anything’s possible.

When she first arrived on the land, there was zero infrastructure. The first thing she and Danny did was create some access. The second thing they did was to start collecting and organising materials. How many times have I visited a project to see salvage mayhem, with the person having no idea what they even have. Here it was all laid out in lots!

Next Annie and Danny set a couple of caravans on the land to sleep in, and created a makeshift camp with toilet blocks and a bush kitchen. Then she began what I believe is her heart’s calling: the gardens and food forest. Annie has green fingers. There is a huge polytunnel rammed to the gunnels with all kinds of vegetables. Not to mention many beautiful outside gardens full of fruit, trees, flowers, and herbs.
​
The reason Annie manages these incredible gardens is because she has set up multiple very smart watering systems. If, like me, you have spent too long procrastinating about something like this, watch this video. Annie walks us through her very simple, effective, and low water usage watering system.

A love for animals
One special thing I love about both Annie and Danny is that they are real souls of the Earth. And while Annie’s practicality certainly is a bonus, in my opinion it is her ability to hear her land that has made her farm far more than just a “successful project”. It’s a place of beauty and originality, and respects all life. Annie loves animals, and I noticed just how healthy all her pets and birds were. Because yes, she has livestock— ducks, chickens, and quails, as well as three dogs and two cats. It’s quite a menagerie.

Power and water
The place is entirely solar-powered. Annie has about 2 kilowatts of power, and has a few freezers, a fridge, and a washing machine. For water, she has installed multiple rainwater harvesting stations. But this is basically a desert, so in the dry periods Annie and Danny have to transport in water, as well.

The earthbag kitchen and bedroom
There was a lot to be impressed about at D’Annies, but I’m still gobsmacked by the earthbag structures. The kitchen is 20 metres by 20 metres! Not only that, but it’s a square structure, so includes a lot of buttresses too. I think there were something in the region of 3,500 earthbags in it.

“Some woofers came, I think they did about a row. But I did the rest,” she says.

When I first heard that, I simply couldn’t believe it. Earthbag building is labour-intensive. I always say it’s good for teams of about four or more. It’s not the easiest technique if you are alone, especially when you get to the higher layers. Each sack (hers were big, too...gulp) weighs something like 20 kg. Annie stands at about five foot tall!

“I’ve lost some weight since I’ve been here,” she jests, pulling her sun hat on as she scampers out to collect some honey. “And I was real glad when it was done!”

I simply blinked in response to that. You can watch the tour of Annie’s kitchen here.

Danny fully admits he didn’t do any of the earthbags, though he did help out with the roof. Annie is the architect of that very competently laid roof, and painstakingly researched it. What I noticed about her was that although she plans thoroughly before attacking a project, it’s not to the point of paralysis. When it’s time to act, she steps on the gas and works her butt off. Take note of how they spliced the upcycled roof joists together. It’s pro.

You’d think a 20m x 20m earthbag structure would be enough, right? But oh no. At the same time, Annie built herself a sizeable bedroom! It was this 10m x 10m structure we helped to plaster a bit of during our clay plaster and cob workshop in Adelaide.

Aquaponics
And there’s more. Annie et al built an aquaponics glasshouse completely out of upcycled doors. Inside she keeps a tank of perch. The perch poop makes fertiliser for the plants, and a pipework system feeds the fish poop water to all kinds of plants.

I could go on for another week about D’Annies. There are bees and clever ways to grow plants in hot climates, there are mulching and composting toilets, a figary too. And somehow above and beyond all that, Annie makes her own sourdough each day, and creates all kinds of natural salves and ointments. Feeling tired yet? He he he.

Things to learn from this project
I learned plenty from Annie, and as a result of staying with her I pledged to change more than a couple of things about the way I go about my next off-grid project. Here are some important takeaways:

1. Collect materials and set up decent storage before you start the project. I must admit, I have a bit of an aversion to stuff and hate feeling like I live in chaos. But I can see Annie has saved herself a lot of money, time, and running about by creating a very organised kind of salvage yard, which she pilfers whenever she wants.
2. Set up an automated drip-fed (or similar) watering system. I’m so sold on this. How long did I waste in Turkey each day watering? I don’t want to even think about it.
3. Get your infrastructure up before you indulge in your passion. Annie really got this right. She made her life a lot easier by sorting out water, toilets, kitchen, and power from the get-go.
4. Listen and look out for the ancestors and guardians that might be wandering around your land. Ask before breaking ground.
   

Want to volunteer with Annie?
What an experience! If you really want the full off-grid outback adventure, Annie takes woofers and volunteers. She has a decent setup, and I can’t stress enough how much you could learn from this place if you have the right attitude. Heck, I learned plenty! But Annie really does need capable hands-on folk, so only apply if you are in reasonable physical and mental shape.
​
You can contact Annie directly by email.

We often think of clay plaster as something only to be used on a mud hut on a remote mountain. I find that people are afraid of using it in a modern context, and most definitely look alarmed halfway through the application process:) But clay is very versatile. Depending on how you finish it, it can look rustic or smooth, boho or contemporary, farmhouse or Bauhaus.
This spring I was tested a little, as I had a flat in a town to redecorate. But I still managed to do it using clay paints and plasters, and I’m thrilled with the result. Render, sculpture, and clay paint— it’s all here.

I really enjoyed turning what was a clumsy jutting separation wall into a feature. Even the internet engineer felt compelled to stroke it! “Are those bits of real straw?” he asked. “Wow, so cool!” And, you guessed it, this feature cost almost nothing to make. The only thing I bought was a bag of sand. The key to getting clay plaster to work in modern homes is a decent finishing trowel, and some equally decent trowelling skills.

Using both a Japanese trowel and a sponge is the key to creating a tight, sleek finish that even suits an apartment. If you’re coming to my special clay plaster course in Romania this summer, you’ll learn how to use both to create the look you want.

But it doesn’t end there. Clay plaster sculptures can look absolutely stunning on mainstream walls. I’m just loving the way my mud birds sit (or fly) on this surface. The contrast in texture between the smooth clay paint and the earthen sculpture really gives the wall a stylish look. Who would’ve imagined some mud and horse manure could work in this context?

Did I say clay paint? Now, normally I mix my own clay paint from the clays around me (the bird sculptures have been coated in a homemade clay paint), but I also wanted to try some ready-made clay paint from a sustainable eco company I’ve happily used for pigments. I’m pretty sceptical about bought so-called eco products, as I mostly find it’s a bunch of greenwashed crap. But Earthborne do a good job of keeping the chemicals out of their clay paint while also creating a paint that you can slap on the wall easily and smoothly. The finish is gorgeous with a smooth, rich texture that contrasts perfectly with the clay plaster sculptures. It felt like applying double cream.

Did I mention pigments? I’m a picky devil when it comes to colour, and I couldn’t find the exact colours I wanted on the colour chart. So guess what? I bought some Earthborne pigments (which are excellent and surprisingly inexpensive) and mixed them into a white clay paint. I just loved the results.

I was recently named an expert in RentBlog, and gave my own ideas for bringing natural materials into a modern home. There are some great tips from a variety of interior designers in this post, so take a look.

I am able to offer genuine recommendations for products thanks to the support of everyone chipping in to run The Mud Home on Patreon. All suggestions are from the heart.

Patrons really do get stacks of perks. Email priority, a monthly podcast, a place to ask questions, personal updates, and so much more. Not to mention seven years’ worth of archives!

9 Pictures of How the Wall Evolved.
I have to be honest—my curving wattled wall was a determination demanding labour of love. It also became the central feature of my barn, and I felt a huge sense of accomplishment when it was complete. Here’s the picture story of how it evolved from a couple of posts, to the clay painted show-stealer below.

First I screwed some upright posts in place as support for the wattles. Then I grabbed my secateurs and headed for the hazel copse next door to forage for hazel whips. I really don’t want to think about how many days this took, but despite the time and effort involved, it was beautiful to connect with the woodland in this way.

Extra Tip: It pays to collect a few whips at a time, and then weave them into the wall, otherwise they harden as they dry out and become trickier to manipulate.

The wattle weaving begins. At the same time in the lower right gap, I began the foundations of my bottle wall. This was made just out of cob and bottles.

Here’s how the woven wattles look from above. The whole structure becomes incredibly tough, like an enormous woven basket. I didn’t need nails or screws. The wattles are wedged in by themselves.

About half way through summer, I was getting to the stage where I thought this effing wall would never be finished. But finally, as with everything in life, the day arrived when I wove the last wattle in place, and the whole process drew to a happy conclusion.

Next job was to complete the bottle wall feature on the lower right. This was such a pleasant job. I used a cob mixture to embed the bottles.

Once you're wattled up to the hilt, the first layer of daub goes on. Don't panic if it looks a right mess, because the first layer is supposed to. Clay, straw, sand, and manure went into this mixture. I remember people coming by and looking rather alarmed when they saw this. Inside I simply whispered, “I’ll show you, you wait!” The dust bin lid was screwed in there to create a truth window.

Using a Japanese trowel, I began smoothing the subsequent layers of daub. In total there were three layers on my wall.

Eventually I began sculpting the edging of the wattle wall and adding a few other sculpture details.

Finally I created some clay paint from a beautiful reddish clay I found. I used pigments for the flowers. All in all I felt pretty pleased with the outcome.

Do you love the Mud Home? Does it inspire you?
The Mud Home has been completely ad-free for over a decade, but it doesn’t run on hazelnuts. So if you’d like to show your support and have access to a massive archive of updates, videos, and audio, please consider becoming a patron.

If you’re planning to move off-grid, or even build yourself a little mud home, what should you look for in a piece of land? It’s important. Your land is the ultimate make-or-break factor in whether you thrive off-grid or not. The trouble is, if you’re coming from an on-grid set up, you probably won’t realise just how important some elements are, or which things are deal-breakers, and which aren't.

Below is my list of top six crucial things to look for when choosing a piece of land to live in.

1. Water
Water is life. Without it you can’t grow anything, wash your clothes, shower, or clean your dishes. You need it for building, for living, and for growing. And you need a lot more than you realise.

You want to have at least one (and preferably two) water sources on your land. Don’t trust any agent or seller who says, “Oh I’m sure you could connect it to this or that source.” People always say this. Water is simply too important to take a chance on. You want to see it with your own eyes actually on the land.I’ve already written an in-depth guide covering this, so take a look if you haven’t already.

Where does the rain water flow?
It’s not all about finding water though. Sometimes it’s about getting rid of it. When the rains come, you need to be sure you’re not going to be sitting in half a metre of water. So study where the water flows. Sometimes there are gulches or ditches that will give you a clue. Lots of clayey soil around the living area is also a bit dubious. Obviously, if your land is basically a swamp, then it’s going to be tricky, and there’s only one way to be really sure, and that’s to visit it during or just after a big rain.

2. Sunlight
It’s a common mistake for those who’ve come from an urban setup. The off-grid life is very outdoors, and the elements impact everything. If your land is north-facing in the Northern Hemisphere or south-facing in the Southern Hemisphere, you risk having very little to no sunlight hitting your land in winter months. The direction your land faces can cause drastic micro-climates, even within a matter of metres.

Without sun hitting your land you will struggle to grow vegetables, you risk more severe frosts, and won’t be able to use solar power adequately. Not to mention the impact on your mood.

Always south?
In Spain my land was actually east-facing, but I was on the top of a mountain, so I still got plenty of sunlight, even in winter. However, the west-facing plots opposite me were sunless and frozen for three months in winter. Why? There was a mountain in just the wrong place that blocked the sun from them. So do note that it’s not always about the angle of the land.

3. Wood
Many people forget this one. Unless you are on the equator and cooking using gas (not the most self-sufficient idea, but an understandable way to start off), then you’re going to need wood. The colder your climate, the more you need. It can be pretty staggering how much wood you burn in really cold climates. So, make sure you have some sort of wood source either on your land or next to it. Wood is heavy. You don’t want to be carting it miles up hill if you can help it.

I like things like ash, willow and hazel copses or backwoods. If you are using things like hazel, willow, or ash, it’s actually amazingly sustainable, because these trees love to be pruned and regrow very fast. Those woods also burn very hot when properly dried out.

Another option is to be positioned close to a wood yard. They always have off-cuts you can use.

4. Soil/Clay/Rocks
Almost no one checks this, because no one values the earth beneath their feet. They’re about to start though, seeing as we’ve rendered half of it lifeless. Your land is made up of a treasure trove of elements, and if you take the time to look, you could be sitting on valuable resources. So dig below the surface a little and see what’s there. If it’s just sand, and you have dreams of food gardens, you might want to reconsider.

Fertile soil: If your land was used for light pasture, you may be lucky enough to find fertile soil. This is soil that hasn’t been degraded by intensive agriculture, so it’s still full of the microbes needed to grow healthy food. It can be peaty and rich to touch.

Clay: Gardeners hate it, mud builders love it. If you want to build a mud home, do yourself a big favour and buy land with clay in it somewhere. Clay isn’t a scarce resource. It’s everywhere. If you see hard, cracked ground on a dry day which turns slippery when wet, that’s almost certainly clay.

Rock: Check what kind of rock is on your land. It’s a very valuable resource. My barn and two huts were made entirely from the limestone rock of the land, not to mention all the perimeter walls. There are many kinds of rock, and I'm not a geologist, but here are some common ones to recognise:

Limestone: One of my personal favourites, because hey if it’s pure enough you could potentially make quicklime out of it. It’s also a good hard rock for building.

Granite: Granite has been used for a very long time in construction. This tough ancient rock can be polished and turned into worktops, window sills, and much more.

Slate: This flat black rock is very useful. If you’re in a slate area, you can use slate for roofing tiles (see Galicia in Spain). It’s also wonderful to repurpose it for plates, shelves, flagstones, and more.

Sandstone: Softer than limestone or granite, sandstone is easy to work, so you can carve it into shapes. In times of old it was carved into oil lamps, statues, bowls, and more. It’s also used today for flagstones and building blocks.
​
Other good things about rocks: If your land is rocky, you’re less likely to have flooding issues. Peat can potentially create bogs, and clay holds water, so it can create sludgy, water-logged areas.

5. Access
Last but not least. Most people know they want to drive to their land, and access is one of the first things they check. It isn’t impossible to create a house without a road, but you’re opting for a fairly hardcore adventure if you choose do that. I personally don’t think you need the road running up to your house, and am happy to ferry materials 100 metres or so. But you have to know yourself on that matter.

6. Good energy. "I guess land with good energy sells fast." This is what an Qi Gong practicing estate agent said to me after I sold my barn in two weeks. He's right. I personally wouldn't give a damn if a piece of land had all the physical attributes above if the place didn't give me that special feeling. Land isn't dead and static. It's alive and connecting, and it definitely calls in (or repels) people. If you want to know more about this aspect, you might like my Earth Whispering course.

Extras
The next things are not necessarily dealbreakers, but things you may not have considered:

Sloping or flat? If your land is sloping (and you put a home at the top of said land with drainage channels) you’re unlikely to suffer flooding, because the rain water runs down and away. The disadvantage of sloping land depending on the gradient is you may need to terrace the land for growing. Flat land has more potential to become bog-like, but is easier on the feet.

Trees: Most people who come to this website are the kind of people who like trees, and are probably going to care which ones are on their land, so I'm probably preaching to the choir here. Trees are for me some of the most important beneficient beings to grace a given spot of land. They offer fruit, nuts, wood, shelter, shade, homes for birds and other animals, beauty, and if you can hear them, an awful lot of wisdom. Of course, some beautiful generous souls are going to reforest the land. It takes time, but it's a great thing to do.

Wind: Wind is an invisible but powerful force. If you live high in the hills or in an exposed position, the wind may or may not drive you nuts. Wind can rip off roof tiles, break tree branches, and prevent you from lighting a fire, so it’s worth considering. The plus side is, you could use it for wind power.

​Altitude and snow: Is your potential land buried under a lot of snow in the winter months? Snow is beautiful, but just know what you’re letting yourself in for, because it’s hard work navigating the off-grid life in the snow for months at a time.

Considering going off-grid?
If you’re considering moving off-grid, then take my free off-grid prep course and ask yourself a few important questions before taking the plunge.
 
If you’re serious about going off-grid, then I’d advise enrolling in my off-grid roadmap, which guides you through the first stages of setting up your off-grid world and may well save your sanity, marriage, and health in the long run.
 
Two Options:
You can choose between the Full Off-Grid Roadmap with 15-Part Video Series which takes you step-by-step round my off-grid world in Spain. It comes with an in-depth 117-page PDF. That option costs $80 USD plus tax.

Or, if you have a limited budget, you can just buy the 117-page PDF without the videos, which is currently $45 plus tax.

Last month, I was travelling the byroads of France back to my barn in Spain. Now, I love the drive through Provence for the food and the glorious country roads. Sadly, most of the time as soon as I hit Hotel-Land, I have to grit my teeth and brace myself for a night in soulless concrete. Not anymore! For I have found the Permadise.

It was late August as I swerved this way and that along the tiny bumpy road, fields of sunflowers rolling in yellow waves beside me. Finally I pulled into a remote stone hamlet, and there in front of me a young couple waved from the entrance of a massive stone barn. This was Dustin and Nicole.

Dustin and Nicole are Swiss, and in their former lives Dustin was an engineer while Nicole worked as a mechanic. Yes, already we can see this is a powerful combo for a perma-natural building project. What they have done in five years here at the Permadise is pretty jaw-dropping. A huge barn has been completely renovated using natural and upcycled materials. You cannot imagine how happy I was to see lime mortars in the walls, upcycled wood, and straw bales.

Then there’s the enormous open green house, and I kid you not when I say I was reminded of the Eden Project. Because I’ve never seen such a beautiful, creative way to make a hothouse for your tomatoes as this, and on this scale. Originally a massive ugly old metal hangar, Dustin and Nicole ripped off the corrugated iron and in-filled with all manner of second-hand windows and doors. The result blew me away.

“So what made you move here? Had you always dreamed of this kind of life?” I asked the couple over breakfast. We were looking over a dreamscape of mulched vegetable beds, berry bushes, and fruit trees. It was a world of abundance.

“I had an aunt who lived in the country,” said Nicole. “And I always remember visiting her when I was younger, and enjoying that experience, living close to nature with animals. We were living and working in Basel, a big city, where even the countryside isn’t really nature.”

I nodded knowing exactly what she meant. There’s a huge difference between living and participating in nature, and having it simply sit there as a backdrop.

“I want to be self-sufficient,” said Dustin, pushing a lock of blond hair out of his face. “I can see what’s coming, and if I put the work in now, I can create a self-sustaining permaculture food garden. Eventually it will take care of itself and us.”

​As I munched on my egg, probably laid by one of the hens clucking opposite, I revelled in the delights of living as a true Gaian, and talking to people who “get it”.

“It’s always really interesting hearing why people start out on this journey,” I said, laughing. “I did it because I hate working! I just wanted to escape the grind. But once you live in the bosom of nature, you just can’t go back.”
​
We all nodded at that. There was such a peace pervading the Permadise. It’s an atmosphere so different from that of the modern world we’re used to. It’s not just the quiet, but also the impact of eating home-grown food, the slow rhythm of the day, the sunlight and other elements, and the effect of living in an ancient building made with natural materials. Oxygen literally permeates the walls.

Now, sometimes in these recycled Permie projects, things can look a bit of a mess one way and another, but the thing that so impressed me about the Permadise was just how good it looked. It was a place of beauty, and the building was as stunning as the garden. I really commend the pair of them for taking on this huge project in such a professional way.

This gorgeous rustic door frame is made from wood cut from the land.

The bathroom has been very creatively designed using natural wood forms, and felt incredibly luxurious.

You can see all the walls have been mortared with lime. As is typical with ancient barns, there were gaps between the roof and the walls, which Nicole and Dustin have beautifully filled in with bottles and cob.

One of my favourite features was this gorgeous staircase built from upcycled wood planks and driftwood. It is often the case that the most beautiful elements of a building are created to hide something. In this case it’s pipework. What a stunning flight of stairs though!

So if you happen to be in central France and looking for a very inspiring and healthy place to stay, take a look at the Permadise. As you know, the Mud Home is ad-free and independent, so my recommendations are always from the heart.

The Permadise can be booked on Booking.com. They also have a nice website here.

​Do you enjoy The Mud Home?
The Mud home is ad-free and independent. It runs thanks to the support of everyone on Patreon. So if you benefit from this website and all the free materials available on it, do consider making a pledge to keep it running.

This summer I was lucky enough to housesit for Charlotte Organ. Frankly it was a dream. Apart from being a lovely person whom I hit it off with immediately, Charlotte is also a professional chateau and castle decorator, specialising in lime works and trompe-l’oeil. Charlotte has been in the lime game a fair while. “I became interested in the beauty of surfaces as a teenager when I worked on a S.P.A.B. project [The Society for the Protection of Ancient Buildings] repairing a Devonshire medieval longhouse,” explains Charlotte.
 
Charlotte has decorated some illustrious buildings, including Kilcoe Castle for Jeremy Irons. She studied Fine Art at Bristol and then began working as a decorator in and around the city. There she learned various decorative techniques such as colour washing, stencilling, distressing, rag rolling, sponging, marbling, and trompe-l’oeil. The ingenious part is that she’s transferred many of these techniques to lime in a way that is truly original. So buckle up your overalls folks! This is a master class in lime finish.

Why do you need to use lime?
Anyone who’s been around The Mud Home a while is no doubt bored of me banging on about lime, until they use it of course, after which they soon become a fellow lime evangelist. Lime creates a beautiful, dry, and healthy atmosphere, and if you haven’t had a go, you just don’t know what you’re missing. Lime is a natural fungicide and inhibits mould in damp climates. It creates a beautiful, clean finish, it’s inexpensive, contains no toxic chemicals, and boasts a very low carbon footprint to boot.
 
You can use lime in many ways: mortars, plasters, limecretes, and paints. I have a full article on that here. But Charlotte has used lime paint in ways I had never seen before, to create truly jaw-dropping effects.

Both in her own home and in a great many of her projects, Charlotte uses natural pigments to colour her lime paints, along with some interesting methods to bring out the colour. One technique I adored was how she created stylish and elegant walls by using stencilling. I had never considered stencilling on lime paint before! She sponged the walls with a pigmented lime paint, and then used pure pigment in the stencilling. It looks simply amazing.

Above you can see another interesting technique. Here we have a base coat of pigmented lime paint with squares of pigmented lime painted over the top. The colours were brightened by going over the lime paintwork with liquid beeswax, thinned with turpentine. Proper turpentine is needed here, not white spirit.

Another method Charlotte used was to paint the walls in a base coat of lime paint, and then paint over them using milk (casein) paints.

Charlotte has used lime extensively in her own home, a beautifully renovated farmhouse in southwest France. I found it incredibly inspiring on all levels. In this bathroom you can see a vibrant turquoise lime paint on the walls.

Lime renders and paints adorn Charlotte’s farmhouse. She agrees with me (as does everyone living within lime walls) that it creates a warmer, drier atmosphere. Even on the eye the effect is cosy, as you can see by the lime render and warm tones of lime paint on the staircase walls.

You can see more of Charlotte’s amazing work (and there’s lots to see and be wowed by, I can assure you) on her Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/eneffetdecor
Her website is here: https://eneffet.co.uk

Things to take from Charlotte’s work
I often feel there’s too much worry about the rules of building works. Nowhere is this truer than with natural paints and plasters. I mean what’s the ultimate risk here? Your house isn’t going to collapse because the paint went awry. Charlotte has really proved that it pays to experiment and you can use all manner of exciting decorating techniques with lime.

Do you benefit from The Mud Home articles?
The Mud Home only continues because of the support of the good people on Patreon. It’s expensive and time-consuming to run. So if you believe it should stay open source and ad-free, consider making a pledge.