CHAPTER VI

_LOCATING THE HOUSE_

Since more than three-fourths of the life of the farmer and his family

are spent in sight of home, more than one-half of life in the house, and

more than one-fourth in bed, the house, the place where they live,

should receive most careful attention. Having secured sufficient land to

maintain a home, and having made certain that these lands are productive

and profitable, a problem is presented in locating and building the

house which demands a high degree of intelligence, long, painstaking

study, and a good understanding of what constitutes fitness, beauty and

durability.

Life in the country gives one the idea of repose, of strength and

breadth, of largeness, of solidity and durability, of healthy,

symmetrical, solid development. Things which are evanescent, unreal,

shoddy; things which are simply for show or vulgar display; things which

have the appearance of aping that which may be appropriate under

different conditions, but are totally out of place in rural life, must

be avoided if utility, natural beauty and comfort, economy and repose

are to be secured.

The pioneer in the wooded districts built the home in some sequestered

nook or valley at the base of the hill or table land, where the spring

or the stream issued from the wood-covered heights. The rural house of

the pioneer allowed free circulation of the frosty air; the problem of

ventilation they solved without knowing it. Unwittingly they adopted the

correct principle; viz., ventilation by many small, gentle streams of

air instead of by a few large openings, which create dangerous drafts.

It must be admitted that our forefathers overdid the ventilation in most

cases, and rheumatism and chilblains were the result; but the principle

was correct.

Now the spring has dried up, the water from the deforested hills comes

rushing to the lowlands until the streams overflow their banks, and

these and other changed conditions indicate that the future farmsteads

should be erected on higher land, on the slopes of the hills. From the

one extreme we have gone, in some cases, to the other, and the home has

been built on the very apex of some lofty hill. Such locations may be

well adapted for summer residences, where little or no farming is

carried on, but are not suitable for the farm home.

Now that the house is constructed by more skilled workmen than

formerly, and out of better material, there is little need of locating

the home in the sheltered nook, except possibly in the extreme north, or

on plains subject to tornadoes. The object in locating the house on

somewhat elevated lands is fourfold. First, air drainage. In deep,

crooked, narrow valleys the air is pocketed, especially at night, and

the damp, cold air settles in the lowest land as certainly as water

finds the low-lying pool. In these pockets between the hills, frosts

come early and remain late.

While traveling in western North Carolina in the late summer and fall, I

could not but observe how every little break in the hillside and every

narrow valley was filled at sunrise, to the crest of the adjoining hill,

with a dense fog. Slowly the sun, as it approached the zenith,

dissipated the fog, but the narrow valleys were often free from fog for

only a few hours each day. Here the home might be situated well up the

mountain side, as shown at the right in Fig. 5.

[Illustration: Fig. 5. A house in the bottom of the valley and one on

the mountain side.]

In a little pocket about twenty feet deep, formed by hills, with a road

embankment at its mouth, fruits failed, although they flourished on the

adjoining land, where there was good air drainage (Fig. 6). If fruits do

not thrive on these undrained areas, the natural conclusion is that the

children will not. It is found that the upper stories of city buildings

are healthier than the lower ones, and that the ground floor is the most

unhealthy of all. This is the only objection to a one-story house. On

the level prairies little opportunity is offered for locating the house

above the level of the surrounding country. Fortunately, many of the

prairies are undulating, and furnish most beautiful locations for

country homes. Much may be done, even in the level country, to overcome

the disadvantages of the site by placing the cellar of the house only

two or three feet in the ground and grading up to within a short

distance of the top of the wall. A pool or two, or a miniature lake near

the barns, and skilful planting of trees will lend a diversity and charm

well worth the attention and time given to them.

[Illustration: Fig. 6. A frosty pocket.]

A pool may be made by scooping a place in hard earth or by damming a

stream (Fig. 7). If no water is allowed to flow over the dam and it is

raised some two feet above the overflows, it will serve every purpose as

well as an expensive grout or stone structure. It will be noticed in the

picture that provision has been made by digging shallow ditches on the

right and left for carrying off the surplus water when the miniature

lake is full. In constructing the dam, a trench two feet wide, at right

angles to the stream, should be dug to the depth of one foot, or until

solid ground, unmixed with vegetable matter, is reached. Fill the trench

with clayey earth which is free from humus, which will prevent the dam

from leaking at the bottom where it meets the natural soil. The stream

which feeds the lake or pond should be small, and need not be perennial

if the dam is raised as high as it should be. If the water is dammed

back to the depth of twelve to fourteen feet, and the banks of the pond

are rather steep (A, Fig. 7), a cool, useful miniature lake will be

formed, and not an unsightly marsh, during the dry months of summer.

[Illustration: Fig. 7. A useful pond.]

Dryish, gravelly soil and subsoil is to be much preferred as a site for

a house to clayey or dark, damp soil which contains much humus. If the

ideal soil cannot be secured, then thorough drainage should be provided.

In locating on a gentle declivity, there is a constant tendency for

water to penetrate the wall next the hillside or to pass under the wall

and appear in the bottom of the cellar. Unless this can certainly be

prevented, another location had better be selected.

The house should be situated on somewhat elevated ground, to promote

both surface and house drainage. If it is the purpose to introduce into

the house more water than has been furnished heretofore, then full

provision should be made for carrying all waste water and fecal matter

to a safe distance from the house, and to do this beyond a peradventure,

sufficient fall must be secured to give permanency to the work and an

unobstructed outlet.

One of the objections urged against a country home is that it is “too

quiet,” too much shut up from the outside world. This, in part, is true.

It detracts much from the enjoyment and beauty of the country home if

vision is shut in to a few acres just about the house. The American

farmer is not content to live under the conditions which delight the

Transvaal Dutch farmer, so isolated that he cannot see the smoke from

his neighbor’s chimney nor hear the bark of his neighbor’s dog.

When visiting the home of the Hon. Edwin Morgan, I found that he was

having three large trees cut down. It seemed to the uninstructed like

vandalism. When asked the reason for sacrificing these noble trees,

nourished and tended for half a century, he answered: “I have many more

trees, but I have but one lake--Cayuga--and I must have vistas through

which I can watch the white sail, the crested waves, the ever-changing

colors of the water as the winds open vistas in the fleecy clouds. I

love the trees not less, but the soft reflection of the moonbeams on the

rippling wave more, and so the trees must give way.”

The outlook from the vine-covered veranda should be broad and extended.

If possible, the hill and dale, the stream and wood, neighbors’ houses

nestled in plantations of trees and shrubs, all should be in sight. As

life advances, I see more and more clearly the effect of that noble

lake, its now boisterous now placid surface of the rippling water which

laved the stony beach. I see its effect on that “tow-headed” lad who at

one time breasted the waves, at another sat dreamily casting pebbles

into the clear expanse, wondering what life had in store, what the

great unknown world offered for the nut-brown, high-tempered, crude

country boy. Then plant the country home where nature in her happiest

moods has showered her richest gifts!

But beauty loses much of its charm where healthy vigor gives not the

power to appreciate and enjoy it. So the house should be located on a

healthy eminence. But it is not easy to find a location which shall

combine convenience, beauty, air and water drainage, and healthfulness

all in the highest degree. In the case of the farmer, convenience as to

carrying on the various operations of the farm and healthfulness are

paramount. Drainage may be artificially improved, vistas opened,

miniature lakes constructed, and surroundings made more beautiful. The

farm and its equipment is the workshop, and must be convenient in all

its appointments, or much energy is spent for naught; health must be

maintained at the highest, or work may become but toil and drudgery.

In locating a house, its relation to the size of the farm, its

productiveness and agricultural capabilities should be considered. In

locating the site, two places should be carefully avoided: First, at the

end of a long lane in the middle of the farm. It may be said that the

buildings form the natural nucleus in and around which the work

centers, and therefore they should be placed near the middle of the

estate. But the work carried on in the fields forms but a small part of

the farmer’s activities. He must ever, in these modern times, be in

touch with the school, the church, the post office, the railway, the

market, and his neighbors. When an infrequent call is made at the end of

this long lane, the children appear like frightened deer as they seek

shelter in the shrubbery or behind the corner of a building, and the

more the inherited timidity and reserve, the wilder they appear.

The other location to be avoided is within a few feet of the highway.

Such locations are only admissible in the city, where land sells by the

square foot. What fortunes are sometimes spent in the city to secure

some amplitude of space between the dusty, noisy street and the

residence! What dignity and repose an ample, well kept house-yard gives

to even a plain, modest house! The effect of the mistake of locating the

house too close to the highway is often accentuated by locating the

barns on the other side and immediately upon the highway, and in front

of the house. The location of the house, as to the highway, should be

governed, in part, by the size and productive power of the farm. If

ample acres and means are available, then the grounds should be ample;

if limited, the grounds should be made to correspond.

In moderate-sized holdings, a clear space of from 100 to 200 feet

between the house and the highway, and width equal to or exceeding the

length, will give room for a few shade trees and an ample grass plat.

The site should be either suited to the house or the house to the site.

Therefore, the character of the proposed house and the site should be

considered at the same time. One location may be suited to a one-story,

another to a two-story house. No location is suited to a

story-and-a-half house.

It may be said that on most farms the house is already located, and has

grouped around it plantations and barns. In many cases it would be

inexpedient to change the site of the house, as this would necessitate

many changes of outbuildings and other permanent improvements. But if a

careful inspection is made of farmsteads, it will appear that many of

the houses are in need of repairs and additions, and that the cost of

making them would be but slightly increased if either the house or the

outbuildings were removed to a more desirable site. In the great

majority of cases, the old barns should be gathered together into one

structure, or into two at most, and adapted to the needs of modern

agriculture (as will be explained in a subsequent chapter). All changes

presuppose well matured plans and long and careful study of problems

which will have to be solved if the location of the house or barn is

changed.

The scope, and particularly the cost, of the changes should be known

approximately before the execution of the plan begins. “For which of

you, intending to build a tower, sitteth not down and counteth the cost,

whether he have sufficient to finish it? Lest haply after he hath laid

the foundation, and is not able to finish it, all that behold it begin

to mock him, saying, this man began to build and was not able to

finish.” Far better live in the old house, with its inconveniences, and

get the greatest possible happiness out of the ancient structure, than

to build a new one and cover it with shining paints of many colors and a

mortgage which sticks longer than the paints.

Some of these old farm houses embody many beautiful and reposeful

characteristics, are well located, and need only slight modifications to

make them fit the site as nicely as a bird fits its nest. If thought can

be awakened as to the possibilities of these neglected homes and some

information imparted as to their treatment, or, in other words, if the

eyes and understanding can be trained to take in the fundamental

principles of beauty, dignity, fitness, and repose, we shall soon see

fewer architectural monstrosities. That there are not more is a wonder.

What lad or lass has ever had the slightest instruction by teacher in

rural or city school along the lines of fitness, beauty, and

healthfulness of sites for country homes? The few youths who reach the

institutions of higher learning are scarcely better off. Some of these

are taught to see the beauties and wonders of nature through a

microscope, and, in rare cases, one may be taught to observe the lines

of symmetry and form as exhibited in a poor plaster cast of some

mythological Roman warrior; but as for any instruction which leads

directly to a broad understanding or keen appreciation of nature in her

broader, happier, and grander aspects, it is painfully conspicuous by

its absence. So, is it any wonder that the farmer is deficient in

appreciation of the fitness and beauty of the tree-clad, gently rolling

plateau for a home site, when the “liberally” educated fail to see the

innumerable beauty-spots which cover the face of nature?

The farmstead: The making of the rural home and the lay-out of the farm (5th edition) · 第 6 / 21 章