When we first met, getting used to Sachi’s perspective on making and serving food took me a while. She would make A LOT of food for small gatherings and send people home with leftovers. She would plan meals for days and become consumed with every detail. Seeing her mind spin, I’d try to remind her that the meal could be simpler and easier to prepare. She appreciated the advice, but it didn’t change much.
Over time I came to realize a few things. First, her perspective on food was based on growing up in Hawaii, where huge amounts of food were the norm for social gatherings. As she put it to me once, “Food equals love.” Quantity matters, both in presentation and what people take home. Not enough food? That’s failure. Besides, who doesn’t want to bring a little love home with them at the end of a nice evening?
I also began to see that, for Sachi, preparing food wasn’t a burden or something to be reduced. She has a real, lifelong passion for food that is a deep part of her. When she has an idea for a dish or a dinner to plan, she’s at her happiest. When she’s had a hard day or needs a change of pace, she cooks to refocus. It sounds trite, but food is truly her happy place.
A New Adventure
It’s probably no surprise that, after building flattop, we’ve settled in and the pace of our life has changed. After years of being happily overwhelmed with construction planning on top of daily work, we now have a bit of space. Common Craft, the company we’ve run since 2007, is stable and her side of the business doesn’t require as much attention as it did. I noticed that Sachi was not as excited about the work and was looking for other ways to engage her mind. She was capable of so much more and I didn’t like seeing her cast about for the next thing.
Late last year, we started to bat around the idea of her getting a job, perhaps even full-time. We discussed remote work for a tech company, doing things like project management. This way, she could work from home and have a flexible schedule. It wasn’t a good fit. Sachi didn’t want more screen time in her life.
We refocused on local jobs, meaning on Orcas Island. Tourism is our biggest industry and the jobs are highly seasonal and involve working with tourists. Sachi is amazing at hospitality but is also an introvert who quickly becomes exhausted when working with the public.
Near the holidays an idea bubbled up that seemed to have legs. Eastsound, the main village of Orcas, has a famous bakery called Brown Bear Baking Company. The bakery is a busy place where it’s common to see lines out the door. The food, a mix of bread, croissants, pastries, quiches, sandwiches, and more, is top-notch. We know the owners and have heard about their struggles to find good help. What they needed most was a baker: someone who is serious about baking as a profession.
Photo by lifeonorcasisland.com
Sachi reached out and they invited her to become a full-time baker. I told friends that they (the owners) would quickly discover their stroke of luck. Sachi is a dream employee: a hard worker and a dedicated partner.
The Job
We both braced ourselves for big changes in our lives. Her schedule is four 10-hour days, Friday-Monday. She starts work at about 5:45 am, which seems manageable for a baker. She’s part of a small team that includes the owners, and together, they do it all. They bake loaves of bread, croissants, muffins, quiches, and more (full menu).
From the moment she walks into work, to the moment she leaves, she is busy with one project after another. Multiple oven timers are going at all times. Hours fly by and she’s mostly in the back, doing her thing. She is completely engaged and constantly learning.
The physical aspect of the job, being on her feet, leaning over a bench, and moving full sheet pans and bags of flour, took a toll initially. Over a few weeks and a new pair of shoes, she adjusted and is now accustomed to it. She comes home every day both happy and exhausted. This job seems to have filled a space in her life that needed to be filled and I’m so happy that it’s working.
Since 2007, we lived and worked together every day. Now, she’s at work much of the time and it has taken some time to adjust. She is still involved with Common Craft and I need her help often. We’ve had to figure out how to fit it all in. I’m starting to take on more of her duties and learn some of the systems and software she’s used for years.
Lifestyle Change
A big difference, personally, is how I approach weekends. I am used to having a normal weekend like most people who meet up with friends, go on adventures, etc. Now that Sachi’s weekends are Tuesday-Thursday, I’m trying to navigate my time because I can’t (or shouldn’t) have two weekends per week. Do I work on normal weekends and make Tuesday-Thursday the weekend so we can do things together? Do I work a normal workweek? I’m still figuring it out. What helps is that being alone for four days each week has done wonders for my productivity.
Sachi genuinely enjoys the job and the work. It combines her loves: making food, being engaged, and learning new skills. I have come to see her job as a baker from a romantic perspective. It’s an ancient and essential profession. People depend on her work, each day, for nourishment and joy. Her days are spent working with food and people instead of computer screens. Importantly, she gets to put real love into what she makes.
This feels like a new chapter for us both and we’re both ready for what’s next. Always forward.
Doe Bay Resort is on the other side of Orcas Island and may as well be on a different island. It takes over 45 minutes to drive there, so I rarely visit. That’s not to say it’s unworthy. The resort and grounds are beautiful, with seaside lodging (yurts, cabins, domes) and a clothing-optional spa. The vibe is, shall we say, back to the earth.
The resort restaurant, Doe Bay Cafe, is a favorite and in the restaurant hangs this sign:
I took that photo in 2018. We had just purchased property on Orcas and were in the thick of planning Flattop. The sign struck me because it felt so fundamental, and at the same time, far away. We were in the process of moving from Seattle and a year from razing the yurt-shaped house. Few things in our life were stable enough to focus on yielding anything.
“This principle is like an order. Make sure that every time you design a house, garden, park, or school, it includes elements that will provide real tangible yields. The yields could be food, fibers, or fuels, but there needs to be something.”
This is our fourth summer at Flattop on Orcas Island and our farming game is improving. Each year, we (mostly Sachi) conduct little experiments in the garden with the hopes of finding a secret code that unlocks our little microclimate. The job is never done and that’s part of the fun.
We’ve had strawberries for the last few years and they’ve become a summer favorite. Just before spring this year, Sachi dug up all of last year’s plants, amended the soil, and replanted. Then, in the spring, she thinned the leaves, which allowed the plant to get more sun and fresh air.
The strawberry experiment seems to have worked. Starting in early June, I became the strawberry collector and protector. The birds were eating into my yield, so we covered the beds with netting. From there, the berries flowed. At first, there were a few a day, then dozens, then over 80 in one day. I tracked them all and looked for ways to use them.
I couldn’t help but make a graph.
We had 661 when I stopped counting.
I made syrups, infused liquors, dehydrated, macerated, and gobbled them daily. They were delicious and I felt something stirring in the back of my mind. This wasn’t a handful of strawberries, it was strawberry production and I had hard data on the matter.
You were here when we built the beds and filled them with soil and plants. You were here when we stumbled through. This year, the systems are working better and we are obtaining a yield. I’m already thinking about next year’s strawberries and what we’re learning now that will make the crop even more productive.
This article was published in my free newsletter, Ready for Rain.
From the moment we decided to move to Orcas Island, I became fascinated with the idea of self-sufficiency. I dreamt of using water from a well, growing food, owning a home-based business, and learning to build and repair some of what we need. That dream is becoming more real each year.
Some elements of self-sufficiency are built in at our location. We don’t have the option to connect to community gas, water, or sewage, so we have well water, a propane tank (below, left) and a septic system (below, right),
I take some satisfaction from knowing that my water, for example, is independent of a city water system. It still amazes me that it comes right out of the ground, ready to drink.
Solar energy was always part of the plan for the property, but a lower priority in the midst of building Flattop. At the time, some government subsidies and incentives were being phased out or were uncertain. We continued to say “someday” and added a conduit from the roof to our electrical panel to make future installation easier.
The Reasoning
At our latitude, solar energy is not a slam dunk. The equipment is expensive, we have short, cloudy days in the winter, and lots of tall trees. The alternative, power from the grid, isn’t terrible. It’s mostly clean energy from hydropower and relatively affordable. We spent months debating the options.
A reality of island life is more frequent power outages than the mainland. Our electricity comes from the mainland through an underwater cable and is part of a network across the San Juan Islands. In stormy weather, a fallen tree on another island can take out our power for hours. Before recent infrastructure improvements, many homes were built with diesel generators for powering homes in blackouts. They’re expensive, require regular maintenance, and are not clean energy sources.
For the first three years at Flattop, we did without backup power. Batteries, a chest freezer, cell phone service, and a propane stove could get us through. But we soon discovered a bigger problem: our well and septic pumps depend on electricity to function. To put it mildly, these systems are required and motivated us to consider alternative energy sources. We needed a battery for storing power to use in a blackout.
We met with a local solar installer and learned about all the new subsidies and incentives. The “Build Back Better” bill (2021) reset federal incentives to install solar and/or battery systems. The federal government offers a 30% tax credit on the cost of the project (materials and installation) until 2032. That’s huge. At the same time, the state of Washington doesn’t collect sales tax on the materials. Our local power co-op also offers a 10-year financing plan at 2% per year. It felt like everything lined up. We pulled the trigger and began a 14-month wait for solar panels and a battery system installation.
The Investment
These projects ideally pay for themselves over time. The big question is: how long will it take? Our installer estimated that solar would cover about 90% of our annual power bill and we’d likely pay it off in 9-10 years. That 90% number may sound surprising. Here’s how that works:
Our connection to the electrical grid is now a two-way system. We pay for the energy we use and can sell the excess energy we generate via solar back to the power co-op. The power we sell back is then credited against our power bill. The excess power from long summer days will offset our winter electricity use. Another factor is that the cost of grid electricity is likely to increase over time. A solar and battery system insulates us from potential increases.
The System
In February of this year, a team installed 37 panels on our roof, which equals almost 16 kilowatts of potential power production. In the photo below, the roof is recovering from a huge amount of pollen this year.
The battery system has two batteries and together hold 13 kilowatts of power. To put that into perspective… Our home, right now, uses between 20-40 kilowatts of power a day. In a power outage, we can reduce our power consumption to make those 13 kilowatts last 2-3 days.
The batteries are connected to the grid, which keeps them continually topped up. In a long power outage in the summer, the solar panels can charge the batteries and power the home. Then, battery power can easily get us through the night. This is more difficult in the winter when the sun is scarce.
We expected the installer to ask for specific circuits to power, like the fridge, etc. That didn’t happen. They connected everything to the battery, except power-hungry systems like heating, clothes dryer, etc. Now that the system is up and running it doesn’t require any maintenance, aside from washing the spring pollen from the panels.
The Outcomes
A week after the panels and batteries were installed, we were streaming a movie on TV when one of the lights dimmed for a split second. The movie continued, the digital clocks remained correct, and we shrugged it off. A few minutes later, we received an alert that said, “Your batteries are powering your home”. We had no idea! It was working! Because the batteries powered the TV and internet connection, we could keep watching.
Today we have phone apps and a tablet in our kitchen that display real-time data for the solar system: what the house is using and what’s powering it. It’s fascinating and satisfying. Our home is a generator! Sachi of course, watches the data every day and this time of year is exciting because we’re breaking records each week. On recent sunny days, we sold back twice the amount of power we used.
I see the romantic attraction to living “off the grid” like a homesteader in the wilderness, but that’s not the goal. What we want is a home and lifestyle that’s reasonably sustainable, self-sufficient, and balanced with convenience.
I recently started using a spotting scope (Maven CS.1) to capture what I can see from our deck. A device called Phone Scope makes it easy to connect my phone to the scope.
We see whales from time to time, but this is the first time I’ve been able to use my phone and the scope to get good photos and videos.
When friends visit Flattop, they often say, “This is a place that needs a telescope.” and it’s true. Our view is full of interesting things to see in the distance. Coming out of construction, with so many other priorities, we could only say, “We’ll get one eventually.” That eventuality recently arrived, thanks to an early birthday present from Sachi’s parents (Thanks, Jim and Arlene!).
After a lot of research, I found that a “spotting scope” may be the best option for our location. Spotting scopes are used by hunters and birders because they are portable and have real power. The model I have is a Maven CS.1, which is considered a mid-range model.
My goal was not only to see into the distance but to take photos. This turned me onto an idea called digiscoping, which combines phone photography with telescopes and spotting scopes. It took more research than I expected, but I now have a reliable way to attach my phone to the scope. The attachment is called a Phone Skope.
This time of year, bald eagles are common on our property. They hang out on a Douglas fir that’s clearly visible from our living room and I made it a priority to test the new scope on our feathered friends. I was not disappointed.
Sometimes video footage comes out better than photos. Here’s four minutes of a bald eagle doing eagle things:
As boating season kicks off, I’m sure I’ll be snapping pics of ones that I find interesting. This is a small cruise ship called Wilderness Legacy.
Looking further across the Salish Sea, we can see Canada and the layers of islands in the distance more clearly than ever before.
I’m hoping to use the scope to take photos I never thought possible. More soon!
The alarm went off at 5:20 am and I rolled around in bed until the light came on. Sachi was up first and fed the dogs, who were slightly confused. They’d seen this before and were wondering: Are we going, too? We were up to catch the 7 am ferry to the mainland.
As always, we bring food and a bunch of water bottles for us and the dogs. Wine totes from the grocery store work really well for that.
✅ Sustenance
The longer we live on Orcas Island, and at the mercy of ferries, the more we learn to optimize. It’s normal to visit the mainland as a day trip. You take an hour-long ferry ride over, run errands, and come back on the ferry. The question becomes: What can you get done between ferries? If you plan poorly, you might waste hours waiting for the next ferry. This is where optimization matters most.
This time of year, there are two ferry options for the return home, a 3 pm and a 7 pm sailing. In any other season of the year, it would be difficult to get reservations on these sailings because they’d be full of tourists. In January, we can get reservations for one, both, or show up and hope for the best. As a general rule, we don’t leave these things to chance.
We left home at 6:15 am, both dogs curled in the seats, with the goal of making the 3 pm ferry home. It was going to be close. Our list was full of errands with unknown durations. Things had to line up just right to work.
✅ Caught the 7 am ferry
The original reason for the trip was a doctor’s appointment. Once it was on the calendar, our thoughts turned to what else we could do during the trip. Our car needed its 75k mile service. We needed things from Costco. We needed to eat and get gas. How could we optimize our time?
A complicating factor was that our errands were spread across NW Washington. When I made the doctor’s appointment, I also made an appointment to get our car serviced at the dealership, which is 45 minutes from the doctor’s office, up Interstate 5, in Bellingham.
The dealership was our first destination and we arrived, with both of our cars, by 9:45 am.
✅ Dropped off the car
We told the intake guy at the service counter a familiar story: We were in a time crunch and trying to make a 3 pm ferry. We’d need the car ready by about 1:15 to make it work. Service people in our region are used to islanders on speed runs. He was gracious and said he’d see what he could do. This variable had the potential to change our plans. If the car was ready at 1:30 instead, we might be pushed to the 7 pm ferry.
We needed to work Costco into the mix and decided to visit the one near the dealership. As we parked at Costco, Sachi said we could only spend 30 minutes inside and we both took it as a challenge. It was a small trip… milk, lots of veggies, etc. They were out of eggs. EGGS. For one of the first times ever, we approached the checkout without a line. The universe was aligning. As Sachi paid, I ordered us two hot dog combos for $3 in total. There was no time for other food options. We made it back to the car in 30 minutes.
✅ Costco Groceries
✅ Brunch
Next was my doctor’s appointment, 45 minutes away. We drove down I-5 and arrived with a few minutes to spare. We took the dogs on a quick walk and fed them.
✅ Dog Care
Every minute that went by added a bit of pressure. They called me in and the doctor arrived in a reasonable amount of time. We talked for 10 minutes or so and I was trying to be curt. This variable was working in our favor and I didn’t want to compromise it.
✅ Doctors Appointment
I returned to a car full of excited dogs and Sachi focused on the task at hand. We agreed that we’d immediately head back up I-5 toward the dealership with the hope that the car would be ready. Before we left the parking lot, I received a text that it would be ready by 12:30. Sachi looked at me with a smile, “We’re going to make it.”
We drove up 45 minutes up I-5 and picked up the car with a bit of time to spare.
✅ Picked Up the Car
Sachi had an idea for adding one more stop. Mainland gas is cheaper, especially at Costco. If we hurried, we could fill both cars on the way to the ferry. So we drove back down I-5 to the second Costco of the day to fill up.
✅ Gas for Both Cars
We arrived at the ferry terminal by the skin of our teeth and were both looking for a late lunch. Sachi, as usual, had planned ahead. We ate leftover chicken and rice as we made our way back to Orcas Island. It tasted amazing because it was tinged with victory.
✅ Late Lunch
The speed run was successful and Sachi slept on the ferry.
The post below was sent as an issue of my newsletter, Ready for Rain.
When you live in a small place, it’s easy to get lulled into a false sense of awareness. There can’t be that many secrets among a few thousand people on an island, right? After having lived on Orcas Island for a few years now, I’m realizing that the island is full of traditions that aren’t at all accessible, or obvious.
We share a chat app with a few groups of friends on the island and a couple of the women started to talk about finding paddleboards for Halloween. Paddleboards? What a weird thing to use as part of a costume, I thought.
After a bit of questioning, I found that there is an island tradition called “Witches on the Water” or “Witches Paddle” that takes place on Halloween day. Just like it sounds, women on the island dress as witches and paddle around a section of the island and back.
This was news to me and I didn’t want to miss it. There were no announcements or fliers. In fact, the only way we knew the location and timing was by asking friends. I believe this is by design. No one, I assume, wants it to be a big deal and I hope the witches forgive me for highlighting it here.
On an uncharacteristically sunny fall day, about 40 witches boarded their vessels and paddled out across the cold waters of the Salish Sea.
Photos
All-in-all, not a bad way to spend a Halloween afternoon.
The post below was sent as an issue of my newsletter, Ready for Rain.
It started on what seemed like a typical autumn day. The weather was calm and Sachi was feeling the pull of crab traps. That feeling, which I feel too, is similar to the feeling of gambling; a rush that comes from the chance to win. Every fisher feels it, I assume, and many know that as long as you’re on the water, there’s no way to lose.
We boarded Short Story and headed out to Deer Harbor with our supplies in a small bucket, a cooler, and a dry bag. The whole process happens by rote at this point, having gone to check the traps on most days of every week since mid-July.
This day would be different, but not that remarkable in isolation. As one of the traps came to the surface, I heard Sachi say, “Whoa!” in a tone that was part surprise and part anxiety. It looked as though an alien had entered the trap. It was a bright orange sunflower sea star with 19 arms and we weren’t sure what to do.
We both were flummoxed for a moment. We knew sea stars are harmless to people, but this 19-armed creature looked like it evolved to be a warning to humans, like a brightly colored spider or snake. Some scientists now believe that our reaction to spiders and snakes is innate and not learned. Perhaps, somewhere in the backs of our minds, an ancient voice was telling us that the bright orange creature in our trap could be dangerous.
In reality, we humans are far more dangerous to it.
Sea stars on the pacific coast of the US have had it rough recently. Starting in 2013, over 90% of them died due to sea star wasting disease. No one is certain what caused it, but many think the culprit was a sudden change in ocean temperatures. Sea stars that used to be incredibly common in our area simply vanished over a few years. Since then, the ocean ecology seems to have been out of balance.
The widespread collapse of sea stars, a top predator and keystone species, has had dire consequences for many of the West Coast’s marine ecosystems. For example, the local extinction of sunflower sea stars, which can live for up to 65 years, has led to an explosion of their primary prey, the Pacific purple sea urchin. On a single reef in Oregon, the population of these animals increased 10,000-fold between 2014 and 2019, to more than 350 million individuals.
I was aware of their plight and we brainstormed how to get the sea star out of the trap unharmed and back into the water without touching it. But first, I needed to take some photos. With that out of the way, we dipped the trap back in the water and turned it on its side, and with a little shake, it fell out gently and drifted back down to the shadowy depths.
My first thought was our friends on the island who work for a non-profit organization funded by UC Davis called SeaDoc Society. Their work focuses on ocean science and the rehabilitation of the Salish Sea and its inhabitants. I looked forward to sharing what I thought was a good sign for sea star recovery. I put the photo on Instagram first.
A week or so passed and an idea struck. I enjoy browsing Reddit and occasionally post photos. One of the communities that seemed perfect and has over 19 million members is called, “Mildly Interesting“. I thought the sea star fit that description, so I shared the photo on Reddit with a short note about it being endangered. This is where things started to hit high gear.
Reddit is designed to be a democratic system. Once something new is posted, the members of the community can each give it one vote: up or down. When something gets traction, the upvotes outnumber the downs, and the post has the potential to ascend to the top of the community page and possibly reach the front page of Reddit itself.
When I went to bed that night, it was obvious the photo struck a chord. It had thousands of upvotes, with new votes coming by the second. I couldn’t wait to check my phone in the morning to see what developed as I slept.
To my surprise, the post received over 30k upvotes overnight and reached the Reddit front page at position #10. I was so excited and read almost every comment, including 100+ versions of the question, “how did it taste?” Such is Reddit.
That day, I received a succinct message from someone who asked if I was interested in licensing the photo to news organizations. I agreed. He sent over an agreement and questionnaire that gave me a chance to tell the story. I was careful to promote the photo as possible evidence of a sea star comeback and its connection to ocean ecology.
These kinds of relationships are unpredictable. I figured there was no harm in licensing the photo and I might earn a few bucks. More than anything, I expected nothing to happen.
A few days later, a friend on the island shared a link that was a surprise. Fox News had picked up the story and used the photo on their website along with quotes from me, the “fisherman”. I found it hilarious.
Messages poured in from friends and family calling me, “The Fisherman”. If only they knew that Sachi is the real fisher in the family. One of my favorite parts of the article is this quote at the end:
“LeFever did not immediately respond to Fox News’ request for comment.”
At a personal level, this was a fun and exciting event to watch unfold. But it’s also a reminder about how little this kind of media exposure matters. It had nearly zero impact on my career or livelihood. I did earn a $75 licensing fee for the photo, which is nice.
The real outcome, I hope, is building awareness about the sea stars of the Salish Sea and sea star wasting disease. Every person who learns about it is one more potential advocate for taking care of the ocean.
According to Reddit, my post has been viewed over 3 million times and shared over 1,000 times in the past two weeks. The Fox news article has been widely viewed and shared as well. It was not my intention, but I count the few minutes it took to share the photo as a small part I could play in helping the sea stars get more attention and hopefully rebound.
Since that first catch, we’ve seen three more sunflower sea stars in our traps, so there is growing evidence, at least from our boat, that they are coming back. Here is one escaping just as we pulled up the trap:
The post below was sent as an issue of my newsletter, Ready for Rain.
A few weeks back, I shared a story called Lee Night that was, in part, about spending an evening watching boats go by our house. I wrote:
As boats float by the house, I can’t help but feel like I’m the creepy guy on the beach watching girls walk by. Every boat is different and interesting in myriad ways.
Now that Labor Day has passed and boating season is winding down, I’m taking an inventory of the interesting boats I’ve seen over the summer. After Lee Night, I admit I became a full-on boat creep, watching from my deck as they float by, unaware of my peering lens. I collected a tiny fraction of what passed, but still captured an interesting group of boats.
Tourist Boats
This summer saw heavy traffic from boats full of tourists, usually going to watch whales. The “whaleboats” as we call them are always noticeable because of their size and speed. Few recreational boaters choose to burn as much fuel.
One that always stands out is Blackfish (which is an old name for killer whales).
Another is the Western Explorer.
Sometimes the whales end up in the water in front of our house and the big whaleboats show up.
If you crop a photo just right, you can pretend that a friendly sailboat is the only boat watching the killer whales.
Tourists are also ferried around on other boats that are more focused on destinations. This is the Puget Sound Express.
Commercial Boats
The Salish Sea is a commercial waterway used by all kinds of boats, both local and international. In the distance, there are almost always huge ships traveling in Canadian waters to Canada.
We don’t see these behemoths in US waters our side of Orcas Island, but we see many barges and other large boats used for transporting items to the islands that don’t have ferry service.
You find the strangest things on barges. That’s a two-story house.
Lindsey Foss is a fire-fighting vessel.
A local service will tow you if your boat has a problem.
An sometimes a Canadian Warship goes by.
Recreational/Private Boats
The vast majority of boats that pass our house are recreational or privately owned. Cabin cruisers are a dime a dozen, but sometimes more impressive boats pass by.
M/V Pelican is a 1930 78ft Classic wooden fisheries research vessel that recently started doing charters.
Our friends Mahlon and Deb live on this 65′ boat called Salish Song. Yes, that’s a lovely palm tree adorning their rear deck.
New Pacific is a 97′ expedition yacht that was recently refitted to have a 60kwh hybrid energy system that reduces the use of the boat’s generators.
Other
This caravel style sailboat is one of the biggest we’ve seen.
Like cabin cruisers, sailboats are very common in all shapes and sizes.
And of course, small crafts like kayaks. Sea kayaking is one of the most popular activities in the San Juans. Jet Skis are prohibited, thankfully.
Not a boat. Or is it?
I’ll miss boating season and being on the lookout for interesting boats. They’ll be back before we know it.
I’m sure that my first reaction was a subtle roll of my eyes or at least an imagined one. Two twin-size box springs had sat in our garage for a while and Sachi was formulating a plan. She asked around and no one needed them and she didn’t want to just take them to the dump, so she decided to try converting them into something useful. I fully support this as an idea, but I wasn’t sure a box spring could actually become anything much. With a box cutter and pliers, she got to work.
When we demolished the yurt-shaped house, we tried to salvage what we could. Anything we could give away or use was something that didn’t end up in the landfill. Being new to island culture, we hadn’t yet developed a strong sense of salvage, but we were able to do a lot. We saved many of the windows and gave away the Blaze King wood stove, cedar roof shingles, ceiling panels and more. In addition, we saved at least fourteen panels of hog wire railing material for some future project or new island owner. We had no idea how handy they would be.
Hog wire railing at the yurt
Once Sachi’s vegetable garden got going, it quickly needed support, both vertically and around the edges, as squash plants spilled out over the side of the raised beds. The hog wire came to the rescue on both counts.
The hog wire also served as a moveable fence we can use to keep the dogs out of the temporary and dusty pile of dirt.
Aside from what we could salvage from the yurt, the construction project produced its own scrap and we told the crew to save everything that seemed useful. Today a pile of wood and materials lives under our house and is slowly being put to use.
A few brackets helped turn leftover trim into shelves in our garage.
Steel concrete form stakes became the weight that keeps our shrimp traps in place on the bottom. The holes are perfect for cable ties to keep the stakes in place.
When our friend, Jon, moved to Hawaii, he gave us a roll of flexible deer fence that worked perfectly to keep bird beaks out of the beets.
The more we looked around, the more it seemed everything we’d saved would someday become useful. This is the salvage sense that took time to develop. We told our contractor, Drew, about some of what we were doing and he said something that stuck with me… “If you don’t watch it, your garden can start to look like a junkyard.” Point taken. The island has plenty of these “gardens”. One man’s trash is another man’s treasure and it can be a slippery slope.
With the squash supported with hog wire, Sachi turned her attention to tomatoes and peas, which needed support as they grew. The tomato cages we had from Seattle were not enough to do the job. We considered buying more, but our salvage sense started to tingle.
Off in a far corner of the property was a handful of hog wire strips from building the top part of our fence. These were small and destined for the dump until Sachi had an idea. Over the course of an afternoon, she used the scraps and garden tape to assemble frames for supporting the plants without having to buy new cages. I thought it was brilliant, if not slightly junky.
The frames needed a bit more to support the plants and that’s when the box springs started to look more useful. Sachi stripped off the fabric and noticed the bent metal springs stapled to the wooden frame. They were not easy to remove, but that was part of the fun.
In an hour or two, the box frames were disassembled and flattened, leaving us with a pile of springs and an idea. If we could attach them to the frames, they could support tomatoes and peas just like a tomato cage. And that’s exactly what happened. The frames have a beauty borne of utility and a reduction of waste. They most likely will not become permanent parts of the garden, but for a season or two while we figure out the long term plan for the garden, they will do just fine.
Before moving to Orcas, I might have questioned the reasoning of putting so much effort into using leftover material. Are tomato cages that expensive? Could time be used more productively? Of course buying cages is logical, but it’s not about that. We can calculate savings and waste reduction all day and still not account for the satisfaction we get from putting scraps to work. It takes time, but it’s fun and useful in a way that can’t be counted in dollars.
Now that the house is complete and we’re setting up our new lifestyle, we’re both motivated to see what makes sense in terms of reducing waste and reusing what we can. In the past, we had never considered washing and reusing Ziploc bags, but today it’s normal for us. Again, it’s not about the money or even trying to save the planet. If you strip that away, what’s left, I believe, is a smarter, more practical, thoughtful way to live.
I write books and run a company called Common Craft. I recently moved from Seattle to a rural island. Here, I write about online business, book publishing, modern home construction, and occasionally, dumb jokes.
I write books and run a company called Common Craft. I recently moved from Seattle to a rural island. Here, I write about online business, book publishing, modern home construction, and occasionally, dumb jokes. 
