Those who follow me on Facebook know that I have an, um, obsession with tiny houses. (Hi, I’m Wendy and I can’t get enough of tiny structures.) There’s usually not a post on a tiny house that doesn’t escape my feed. I read up on how to build them, I came close to buying one located in Mass, and I am constantly intrigued by people who convert things like campers and sheds into tiny living spaces where there’s a place for everything and everything is in its place.
There is a certain kind of magic in a house where the empty spaces found between the moments of your life whisper to you instead of screech.
In my defense, though, I’ve always loved tiny things. Trolls were the dolls I preferred, and I remember once spending hours and hours, making doll houses out of discarded treat-sized boxes from our Halloween candy, as I recall, the Milk Dud boxes were the perfect size for a living room.
So what is it exactly about these tiny houses that so draws my attention? Is it the “playhouse-ness” of them – the chance to hold the world’s best tea party? Or, is it (and my money’s on this one) the fact that after years and years of living in a disheveled nest catering to 6 little chicks who are constantly on the go and who all have different interests and skills, that I want a space, just a tiny little space to call my own?
I dream of setting up a tiny house in my backyard that is all mine. Oh sure my kids can visit but they’d have to knock first. I don’t envision myself living there. After all, the chicks still need to be fed, school papers will always have to be signed, and bickering always moderated. My flock still needs to be tended.
But I do see myself, setting up a writing desk, having a tiny teapot on a tiny stove, and being able to sit in a chair (a warm throw on my lap) to read a book by a tiny window with tiny curtains.
Right now a tiny house is not practical. I’d rather (read – have no choice) spend the money on something else, oh – like putting our kids through college. A tiny house is just a dream – a “maybe someday” for me.
Which is why, when I found this painting at an estate sale (“Our House” by Jess 1988) I just knew that it was meant to hang in my office.
It’s my tiny house until I get one.
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Wendy Thomas writes about the lessons learned while raising children and chickens in New Hampshire. Contact her at [email protected]
Also, join me on Facebook to find out more about the flock (children and chickens) and see some pretty funny chicken jokes, photos of tiny houses, and even a recipe or two.
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