Monday, September 5, 2016
Monday, August 15, 2016
a lot about the lot
Alamogordo is the closest city:
plat map:
With my interpretation of setbacks:
Building code in Cloudcroft:
there's something in the woods
As the bride and I approach 50, we're starting to hear the slow rasping of the Grim Reaper on Door Number 3 some unknown distance down the mortal coil. It's easy to take life for granted. It happens, whether you like it or not, until, often unexpectedly, it doesn't. This realization prompted us to sit down and talk about retirement and (gulp) the great fade-to-black.
I won't bore you with the financial whatnots, dates, and career plans, but we did decide that we had two real estate goals to accomplish before retiring: a small condo on the coast (the bride loves the beach) and a small cabin in the mountains (we both love cool weather in the summer). We don't know if we can swing both or even one, but we are going to try.
A small cabin in the mountains was the reason we spent a week in Cloudcroft last September, to check out the scene and look at properties. To make a long story short, we saw a lot we liked, we put in an offer, and we closed on it yesterday! The photo above is a panoramic shot of said lot, about half an acre on a corner edge of town with national forest out two sides. Although we weren't exactly looking to buy something on the trip, we looked, and this lot kept creeping back into our consciousness. The lot's not perfect, mind you (we can't afford perfect), but it is something special. The lot is a wee bit unusual in that it only has a driveway's width of access from the street, but we like unusual; unusual creates opportunity.
Buying a lot feels vaguely foolish at this point, but when the world's going to hell, why the hell not?!? Property taxes are crazy low in New Mexico (at least compared to Texas), so the annual carrying costs are equivalent to a nice meal for two at an upscale Austin restaurant. If we don't build, we can always sell (although the market is somewhat lethargic at the moment with the dip in oil prices).

Looking back up towards the street. The sellers were hoping to build and cleared the lot. On one hand a shame (where are the trees?), on the other hand an opportunity.
so what's the plan?
So what do we plan to do? Building our Modern house in Austin spoiled us for architect-designed homes, so we will work with an architect (or architects) to build a cabin. We want to stay modest: thinking at the moment of a small main house (1:1.5) with a detached guest house (1:1). If we build sooner rather than later, we'll put both into the local VRBO rental pool to help pay it off. Been pinning cabins, peering in cabin books, and gawking at Cabin Porn for ideas and inspirations.1> An architect friend asked us what we were thinking. Our reply: We want someone walking down the street to peer down the drive and whisper to themselves "WTF?!?!" And, of course, the usual Modern mantra: great indoor-outdoor relationships, natural light, and honesty.
Sunday, August 14, 2016
clouds floating over rocks

We're at least two to three years out from starting to build the cabin, but it sure is fun to think about it now. Since cabin design and aesthetics are bouncing around in my head, my psyche is geared towards possibilities. That's why the photos of the house in Alicante, Spain, above and the house in El Paso below peaked my interest: venacular stonework below; white abstractness above (like clouds floating over rocks). Seems almost too perfect for a house we're calling the Cloudhaus, yes?


Poking around our photos of Cloudcroft in search of stonework, there are, indeed, some examples in the area. Here's an older cabin with a stone foundation:
And here's some stonework on the street cut in front of the cabin we stayed at.
Although we're pining for interventionist architecture, we're not absolutely opposed to incorporating some venacular elements in the design, as long as they aren't controlling. And truth be told, there's really no set vernacular style in Cloudcroft--just standard alpine architecture (A-frames, logs, stained wood).
Down off the mountain there's also some stonework, here at the church in Tularosa, which happens to be a juxipostion of stonework and ethereal white:
Does this represent the dark sooty entry of mankind into the enlightenment? I don't know, but I like it.
Poking around Google in the older part of town, there's stonework on the Cloudcroft Hotel:
And here's some more:
Not only is the church white, but so is everything in Sunspot:
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