on my roof but kept it separate. This allowed me to situate
the house in a shady place during the summer while collecting energy at the
same time.
13
Camping Out
I had managed to side-step building codes
by constructing not a building, but a “travel
trailer.” With that stumbling block out of the
way, I still faced a zoning problem. I want-
ed to live in town, and, like most towns,
Iowa City does not allow trailer camping
just anywhere. You cannot just buy an old
lot and park there indefinitely. The restric-
tions do, however, allow for “camping out”
in one’s own backyard.
Upon discovering this, I snatched up a
small fixer-upper on a large wooded par-
cel and proceeded to set up camp. The
rent collected from the big house covered
the ensuing mortgage and taxes. I would
“camp out” in my own backyard for the
next five years before selling the property
and heading West.
California
In 2005, I moved to the San Francisco Bay Area. I had heard a lot of horror
stories about the price of properties in the region, so I sold Tumbleweed and
built myself an even smaller house to take with me. I figured I had better have
something I could parallel park, in case I had to live on the street for a while.
Tumbleweed’s desk (left) and gas heater (above)
15
Tumbleweed’s ladder (above), kitchen (opposite) and exteior (page 18)
16
I called my next home XS-House (as in,
“extra small”). It measured about 7’ x 10’.
Like Tumbleweed, it was on wheels, it had
a steep metal roof, classic proportions and
a pine interior punctuated by a metal heat-
er on its central axis. A bathroom, kitchen,
and sleeping loft featured essentially the
same utilities as my previous residence.
Unlike Tumbleweed, there was a four-foot
long, stainless steel desk and a couch, and
the exterior walls were clad in corrugated
steel.
All things considered, my move westward
XS exterior (page 19), loft (above)...
went smoothly. Gale-force winds broadsi-
ded my tiny home all the way from Omaha
to central Nevada, but both the house and
the U-Haul came through unscathed.
I parked in front of the Sebastopol Whole
Foods for three days. The U-Haul was al-
most due when a woman approached to
ask if I would consider parking on her land
to serve as a sort of groundskeeper. I would
live just yards from a creek at the edge of a
clearing in the redwoods. I would pay noth-
ing and do nothing other than reside on the
property. I was lodging amongst the red-
... and downstairs.
woods by nightfall.
20
With my fear of having to live on the streets allayed, I built a new house
and sold the XS before I had even settled in. I call my most recent domicile,
“Tumbleweed 2.” At 8’ x 12’ with a steep, metal roof over cedar walls, it looks
just like the first Tumbleweed on the outside. I reconfigured the inside to ac-
commodate a couple of additional puffy chairs and a five-foot long, stainless
steel desk. I have been living in this house for nearly three years, and I have
no intention of moving out any time soon (see pages 24 and 130 - 137 for
photos).
The Method and the Madness
My reasons for choosing to live in such small houses include some envi-
ronmental concerns. The two largest of my three, hand-built homes were
made with only about 4,800 pounds of building materials each, less than
100 pounds of which went to the local landfill. Each produced less than 900
pounds of greenhouse gases during a typical Iowa winter. And, at 89 square
feet, plus porch and loft, each fit snugly into a single parking space.
In contrast, the average American house consumes about three quarters 1of
an acre of forest and produces about seven tons of construction waste. It
emits 18 tons of greenhouse gases annually, and, at more than 2,349 square
feet, it would most definitely not fit into a single parking space.
Finances informed my decision, too. Quality over quantity became my man-
tra. I have never been
the house in a shady place during the summer while collecting energy at the
same time.
13
Camping Out
I had managed to side-step building codes
by constructing not a building, but a “travel
trailer.” With that stumbling block out of the
way, I still faced a zoning problem. I want-
ed to live in town, and, like most towns,
Iowa City does not allow trailer camping
just anywhere. You cannot just buy an old
lot and park there indefinitely. The restric-
tions do, however, allow for “camping out”
in one’s own backyard.
Upon discovering this, I snatched up a
small fixer-upper on a large wooded par-
cel and proceeded to set up camp. The
rent collected from the big house covered
the ensuing mortgage and taxes. I would
“camp out” in my own backyard for the
next five years before selling the property
and heading West.
California
In 2005, I moved to the San Francisco Bay Area. I had heard a lot of horror
stories about the price of properties in the region, so I sold Tumbleweed and
built myself an even smaller house to take with me. I figured I had better have
something I could parallel park, in case I had to live on the street for a while.
Tumbleweed’s desk (left) and gas heater (above)
15
Tumbleweed’s ladder (above), kitchen (opposite) and exteior (page 18)
16
I called my next home XS-House (as in,
“extra small”). It measured about 7’ x 10’.
Like Tumbleweed, it was on wheels, it had
a steep metal roof, classic proportions and
a pine interior punctuated by a metal heat-
er on its central axis. A bathroom, kitchen,
and sleeping loft featured essentially the
same utilities as my previous residence.
Unlike Tumbleweed, there was a four-foot
long, stainless steel desk and a couch, and
the exterior walls were clad in corrugated
steel.
All things considered, my move westward
XS exterior (page 19), loft (above)...
went smoothly. Gale-force winds broadsi-
ded my tiny home all the way from Omaha
to central Nevada, but both the house and
the U-Haul came through unscathed.
I parked in front of the Sebastopol Whole
Foods for three days. The U-Haul was al-
most due when a woman approached to
ask if I would consider parking on her land
to serve as a sort of groundskeeper. I would
live just yards from a creek at the edge of a
clearing in the redwoods. I would pay noth-
ing and do nothing other than reside on the
property. I was lodging amongst the red-
... and downstairs.
woods by nightfall.
20
With my fear of having to live on the streets allayed, I built a new house
and sold the XS before I had even settled in. I call my most recent domicile,
“Tumbleweed 2.” At 8’ x 12’ with a steep, metal roof over cedar walls, it looks
just like the first Tumbleweed on the outside. I reconfigured the inside to ac-
commodate a couple of additional puffy chairs and a five-foot long, stainless
steel desk. I have been living in this house for nearly three years, and I have
no intention of moving out any time soon (see pages 24 and 130 - 137 for
photos).
The Method and the Madness
My reasons for choosing to live in such small houses include some envi-
ronmental concerns. The two largest of my three, hand-built homes were
made with only about 4,800 pounds of building materials each, less than
100 pounds of which went to the local landfill. Each produced less than 900
pounds of greenhouse gases during a typical Iowa winter. And, at 89 square
feet, plus porch and loft, each fit snugly into a single parking space.
In contrast, the average American house consumes about three quarters 1of
an acre of forest and produces about seven tons of construction waste. It
emits 18 tons of greenhouse gases annually, and, at more than 2,349 square
feet, it would most definitely not fit into a single parking space.
Finances informed my decision, too. Quality over quantity became my man-
tra. I have never been
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