With roughly 3 months till we’re moved into our new house, there hasn’t been any particular part of the construction that warranted a pause, a reflection, and/or a post about our new home construction. Quite the opposite, it’s been a steady stream of small events, some surprises, and many decisions that have consumed our lives the past 3 months. Soon the drywall goes up and it seems time to process the experience.
The sale of our house on Paradise Lane was remarkable in its simplicity. We’d been openly discussing the ramifications of downsizing, aging in place, and us growing old together (in no particular order). The friend of a neighbor mentioned an interest in moving to Paradise Lane, was informed of our possible interest in having a discussion and, after meeting with her realtor, we fundamentally embraced the timelines and sensibility of their proposal. An ironic conversation with our next-door neighbor about a shared electrical bill led to the involvement of yet another player looking for a place on Paradise Lane that resulted in us accepting his far-more-attractive offer and we closed within the month.
With the security of a year renting back our (now his) house, we leapt into the design stage with the excitement (and wisdom) gleaned 30 years earlier designing and building our current home—the only one we’ve ever owned. A local developer created a community of 50 “Net-Zero” houses in mid-Ashland, right on the bike path, and walking distance to North Mountain Park (our favorite). The concept of Net-Zero fit us like a glove—a highly efficient structure that produces as much renewable energy as it consumes annually, balancing total energy use ,and reducing greenhouse gas emissions to zero. We purchased a piece of property in the development, called Beach Creek, and with that were additionally promised a well-built “FireWise” home with a small landscaped yard that shared a wall with the neighbor’s garage. For cost-effectiveness, the developer offered new homeowners a basic floorplan and an extensive list of items (faucets, doors, etc.) from which to choose. In our first home, we devoured the 1977 book A Pattern Language, the no-nonsense guide that provides human-centric solutions for people designing their own spaces, conveying sensibility over novelty in our first go-round. We were also building on a shoestring, and did our best. With 30 years of experience, we studied the developer’s prepared floor plan and worked closely with the architect to redesign the location of rooms to something we were more comfortable with. It proved to be a challenge, for he was constrained by a maximum square footage permitted on the tiny lot. The result was slightly more expensive and clearly value-added; our kitchen/dining area became south-facing and assessable to deep solar penetration in winter. Once signed off on the floorplan, Shrader Construction took over and got to work.
We got into the habit of driving by the site periodically, and were shocked to have the framing completed a week after the foundation cured. So much of home-building is sequential, and having a good contractor is paramount. Kory Shrader knows his stuff and schedules each sub-contractor with precision. It’s fun to walk through a newly-framed house and imagine the completed project; we did—often. Certain anomalies began showing up that, projecting forward, would be problematic: the location of the water line into the house—the box was right in the middle of a potential area for outdoor gathering in the tiny front yard. The plumber put an outside hose bib in a ridiculous place. A pocket door into the master bathroom was overlooked during framing. All remedied by a builder who had no trouble seeing things the way we did.
Mind you, not all enhancements were the result of errors. We wisely toured friends through our floorplan in its infancy and suggestions were offered based simply on seeing things through a different lens. One beauty had us change the swing of a door into our bedroom that completely opened up a wall for furniture and wall art. Another friend sensibly pointed out that we’d be using the back door for entry much of the time. It’s not that we didn’t have access to our utility room from within the single-car garage, but being a 2-vehicle household one will likely be parked outside the garage door—quite possibly backed in. This will provide the driver wth a ready access to the backyard gate and a series of concrete pavers connecting the driveway and the back-door patio. We’re investigating the installation of an after-market rain canopy over the path. Realistically, this entry will also be used should someone be using a wheelchair; the front entry has several steps.
I’m writing this from Cape Blanco State Park on the Oregon Coast. It’s the end of July and this is, alas, the first camping trip we’ve managed this summer. Two earlier reservations elsewhere were cancelled due to some forgotten demand in the construction process—there’ve been so many. So, we’ve finally stepped away for a bit of R&R. But not before sweeping up all signs of shavings and sawdust in the framing; we read that if this wasn’t done prior to packing the insulation and hanging sheetrock the debris could lead to mold down the road. So tidy up we did, and following our respite on the coast we hope to return to a house with “walled” rooms that will no longer require our imaginations to furnish. Oh, yes, I’ve cut out little pink note cards-to-scale representing our limited furniture—they’re blue-tacked right on the floorpan and are helping us decide what stays and what won’t fit. We’ve also recently held a 2-day “downsizing sale” that inspired us to open cupboards looking for stuff to purge. Lurking in the back of our minds is the apprehension that all the deliberation prior to closing up (think plumbing, electrical plugs and fixtures, blocking/reinforcement for wall art/shelving) will have paid off. Additional changes going forward will likely incur a change-order fee. Ouch!
Wait…there’s more (8/1/26)
What actually happened during our 4-day getaway was astonishing. Windows were installed, waterproofing Tyvek (outside) and wall insulation (inside) was completed, and dozens of huge sheetrock planks were stacked neatly throughout the house that will effectively close up the walls for an entirely new look and feel. Every week it’s something new—often a complete surprise—that puts us that much closer to occupancy in the fall.