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Best friends share their story of attempting a new way of life for themselves and for the planet.
When best friends Machel Piper and Febe Dancier built a hand-formed cob house near Winter, they hoped to create a place to heal, meditate, write and do their artwork. Piper had gone through a divorce, and Dancier had battled a lifetime of illness, including cancer, and had recently lost her hearing.
A year later, however, they made headlines when they were cited by the county: they had no building permit or sanitary permit for their composting system. With only 175 square feet of living space, the house also falls short of the county's 500-square-foot minimum size.
 On a recent afternoon, Piper and Dancier welcomed the opportunity to tell their story — how they built their home, why they embarked on this lifestyle and what they've accomplished.
Dancier spoke through sign language interpreted by Piper and by writing.
A need for change
The process of change began when the two women decided to embark on a spiritual journey.
“We were both on the edge of a cliff,” Piper said, and searching for peace. Prior to moving north, both had lived what would be considered conventional lives. Both have bachelor's degrees. Piper taught kindergarten and Dancier owned a natural foods store and was trained in massage at a school of natural healing in Montreal.
“We had the big houses and the nice cars,” Piper said.
When they moved, they left nearly everything behind. They called this “The Big Purge.”
 They discovered Sawyer County through the Internet, and eventually found a small piece of unimproved land just east of Winter. After being turned off by the cost of building a log home, they discovered the book, “The Hand-Sculpted House.”
“There was a picture of an amazing, cool house on the front,” Piper said. “I'd always wanted a house like that.”
They researched cob houses, which are hand-formed from a mix of clay, sand, straw and water. (The word “cob” comes from an Old English root, meaning "lump.") The building method was common in parts of Europe into the early 20th century, and some 500-year-old cob houses are still in habitation. Today the building form is catching on in popularity in the U.S., especially on the West Coast.
They began building in May 2006. For six months they labored during the day and slept in their van at night. The work was exhausting. Everything was done by hand, powered by muscle, sweat and determination. Wood was cut with hand saws, stumps were removed with hatchets, and the cob was mixed on tarps, using hands and feet.
Their attempt to dig and drive a well near the house was unsuccessful. Instead, they hired someone to drive a well near the road, from which they carry their water to the house in five gallon pails.
After digging a three-foot deep “rubble trench” and laying a foundation of rock, they started to form the cob.
Sand, gravel, stove pipe, some wood and few windows were purchased; other materials were recycled, scavenged or gifted by neighbors and friends.
The house’s kidney-shaped foundation was dictated by the trees growing near it. They cut only eight trees, using most of the wood to form loft and roof beams.
Rather than a set design, the house evolved as it rose from the ground. They carved out windows, formed interior shelves and ledges, and inserted glass jars and bottles into the walls to bring in light and serve as storage.
Instead of a staircase, wooden steps jut from the walls and lead to the loft.
Ultimately, they would like to add an earthen roof, but for now their roof consists of wooden planks, topped with metal, and covered in tarps.
The diminutive Dutch door is perhaps 5 feet high, and much narrower than a standard door.
“Making the doorway smaller makes you more aware of your sense of being as you enter,” Piper said.
The house isn't quite as finished as they’d like; interior and exterior walls still need be “plastered” with a mixture of sieved sand and finely-crushed straw so they can be painted.
 The original plan was to build a stove or oven from cob, but when a neighbor stopped by and offered an antique cast iron wood stove, they gratefully accepted. It’s used for heat, cooking and heating water.
After six months of back-breaking labor, Dancier and Piper moved into their hand-sculpted house.
“After living in the van, it felt like a mansion,” Piper said, laughing.
A new way of life
Learning to live without running water and electricity in a 175-square foot space has been quite an adjustment. Before moving to Winter, neither of the women had even gone camping before.
“We had no idea,” Piper said, “No idea.”
While building the house, they cooked over a campfire. For five months the two vegetarians ate virtually nothing but vegetable stew.
Their new way of life is very literal, very deliberate. If they are cold, they have to chop wood, carry it in the house and build a fire. If they need water, they must pump it from the well and haul it to the house. If they want hot water, they heat it on the stove, which takes time. If they want light in the evening, they light candles.
To dispose of their waste, they chose a “humanure” composting system. They learned how to construct and use it by reading “The Humanure Handbook,” by Joseph Jenkins, Inc. The concept is a simple one: a toilet is constructed with a seat over a removable bucket. A layer of sawdust or other organic material is put in the bucket, and each time the toilet is used, the waste is covered with another layer of sawdust.
According to Joseph Jenkins, Inc. the bucket doesn't have to be emptied until it is full; as long as sawdust covers the waste, there will be no odor.
Piper and Dancier concur. They were skeptical at first, but they insist there truly is no odor, even in their tiny home.
Each day they empty the bucket into their humanure compost bin and mix it with organic material. The compost bin is filled for a period of a year, after which it is left to “cook” or decompose. As long as the compost reaches the proper internal temperature, it should be ready to use as fertilizer within a year. While one bin is “cooking,” another is being filled.
As difficult as the adjustment was, this way of life has become second nature. Their house is cozy and warm, decorated with beads, colorful banners and illuminated by candlelight. Pots and pans hang on the walls, and shelves are lined with herb-filled jars. They even have a refrigerator of sorts: a hole under the floorboards where perishables are kept cool.
There’s little furniture: a tile-covered table, several cushioned stools to sit on and a mattress in the loft.
They share the home with a family of five cats, who snooze in the nooks in the walls or on the stair boards, coming and going through a cat-sized hole in the wall. All have been spayed or neutered.
To keep drafts out, windows are covered in the winter with an eclectic collection of hand-crocheted afghans and blankets, purchased at thrift stores, which Piper calls a “tribute to folk art.”
“It's her inner old lady coming out,” Febe signed, laughing.
Lessons learned?
Because of their struggles with the zoning department, Piper said, their transition to a more natural, self-sustaining way of living has attracted a lot of negative attention. Regardless, she said, their experience here has been very positive.
“We have met some beautiful people, and some very good things have happened,” she said. Both have been gratified to see how “wonderful and non-judgmental people can be.”
Neighbors have given them firewood, building materials and, perhaps most importantly, friendship.
Others have been less friendly or rudely curious.
They feel they have also been judged at times for their appearance. When they moved to Winter, Piper had shaved off all her hair. Both have tattoos which also seem to make some people uneasy. Dancier’s forehead tattoo is a design which Piper said comes from Faery Seership tradition. “It has to do with the god and the goddess coming together to make the godhead into a formless fire,” she explained. Some, however, have looked at the tattoo and seen a pitchfork.
They’ve been called devil worshippers, polluters, Satan worshippers, weed growers, squatters and bad people, Dancier said.
Physical and spiritual growth
For Piper and Dancier the experience has evolved around healing —for their bodies, for their minds and for the earth.
In that, they say they've been successful.
“I feel really good with this lifestyle,” Dancier signed. “I feel the healthiest I've ever been. I feel this is a little like how it's supposed to be.”
Her goal is to be cancer free, and to that end she is meticulous about what she puts in her body and the environment she lives in. Food must be organic, even if it is more expensive.
“You have to make choices,” she signed. “We have a shitty car and a little house and shitty clothes, no make up, but we eat organic food. That's our choice.”
Living sustainably is also important because they care about the effect industrialized society is having on the earth.
They live with as little impact as possible. They create virtually no trash. They don't buy things packaged in plastic, choosing bulk whenever possible. And they reuse their food containers. The Winter Co-op, they said, has been wonderful about special ordering items for them, and is adding more organics to its inventory.
Dancier pointed out that they are not judging people who live more conventionally, because they've “been there.”
“We both wanted to make our dreams come true, and this is a part of that journey. If I can live with Machel and five cats in this little house, so I have time to get better and do my art and save money, it's a little sacrifice.”
“I feel so much more confident now,” Piper said. “We both know who we are. It's not about money, clothes or having a boyfriend.”
They draw and paint, and they're writing a children’s book together which they hope to publish. They're also planning to write a book about their experiences in Winter.
Living so closely hasn’t always been a picnic. Like most close friends, they've had their share of arguments and fights. There have been times of stress, especially over the zoning issues with the county.
“Sometimes it feels like making a dream come true is impossible,” Dancier signed.
But still, they love their new life.
“I feel good,” Dancier said. “ I feel good composting. I feel good caring about more than just myself. I feel good having a purpose bigger than just me and my ego.”
For Dancier every day is a gift.
“I had to fight really, really hard to be here,” she signed, “and I’m going for my dreams. I never thought that I would live this long. I want true love, I want to be a writer, I want a baby someday, I want it all.”
Looking around at the small structure she and Piper call home, Dancier signed, “What would Jesus do? Would he bulldoze this house? I'm ready to accept miracles here.”
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