A Silver Summer For $11.00

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We finished the front of the but by nailing another wedge-shaped piece of plastic over the loop, bottom and door frame of its left-hand section.

The back door was a breeze to put in after the front since it wasn't to be used as access but just as a sort of screen for ventilation . . . we followed the front door installation procedure without worrying about making the screen open and close. Once again wrapping the edges tightly over the arching saplings, we nailed two pie slices of plastic on either side of the door.

We finished off the but by digging a trench along both long sides and burying the "excess" plastic we had left along the shelter's edges. This prevented rainwater from collecting at the tunnel's edges and soaking the ground inside. We then cut a piece of plastic to fit the floor, laid it down and nailed it to the inner bottom of the frame members to create a vapor barrier.

Two days' work and my little tunnel home was finished. . . almost. We still had to bring in the hut's furniture: two wooden straight-backed chairs, a 3' x 4' table, a luxurious easy chair, a mattress and a set of bedsprings, bedding, tablecloth, a thick carpet, a Coleman stove, a few "kitchen" supplies and two kerosene lamps.

The road ends before it reaches my property, so hauling furniture cost us a few hours of hard labor on the third day . . . but it was worth it. The rug just fit, the easy chair sat in a corner right by the screened window so that I could look out at the Great Blue Heron over the swamp, the table and chairs lined one side and—in the back, running crosswise against the screen door—the bed and springs provided comfortable sleeping accommodations. My little "cottage" looked like a warm hobbit but overhung by hemlocks . . . thoroughly inviting.

I stayed alone on the land—without seeing anyone—for three weeks and it was during this time that I came to realize the incredible uniqueness of my dwelling. The plastic seemed to filter out the yellow in the sun's rays, and let in only a pure white light that turned the interior to solid silver. My scrounged and hastily built $11 but was like a huge and lovely chandelier, a giant bubble that changed the quality of my days by giving my living space a rare beauty that I had to live up to. I felt compelled to match the crystal clarity of the but with an alertness of mind and an attention to form in all my work on the land . . . the beauty of the but pervaded everything I did, turning work to art.

In time, my friends returned to create their own summer spots of silver in the woods. We built three more huts, a sunwarmed greenhouse and even a guest house . . . all variations of our first structure. (The guest house differed most since we made it longer and narrower than its predecessors and added a partial dome at the back, formed by three saplings placed about three feet apart in a semicircle, their tops drawn together and lashed to the top middle of the end arch in the tunnel).

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