7.18.2011

a place for the bubbles






We're not gotta-park-the-darn-car-in-the-darn-garage kinda folks, but we do need garage space for our bubbles, a couple of late fifties microcars often referred to by aficionados as bubble cars. The green one is a 1958 BMW (you read that right: B. M. W.) Isetta and the other one is a 1957(?) VELAM Isetta. If you've seen a Smart car, well, everything old is new again. Originally designed in Italy, BMW and VELAM licensed the design from a company called Iso (Isetta means "little Iso" in Italian). We bought the VELAM from, no joke, the heir to the Dubble Bubble bubblegum fortune who turns out to be an avid collector of bubblecars (he has quite a museum in Madison, Georgia). And, no joke, he delivered the car to our place in the back of a tractor trailer filled with bubble gum. Anyway, I digress...

Since we're talking to builders to get preliminary estimates, The Architect quickly put together a mockup of the garage/carport, and it's pretty darn cool. Plus, that shed roof will make it easy to collect rainwater. I'm thinking it needs a couple windows and maybe is a tad too big (knowing how I'm going to be using this space, I'm going to have to park my daily driver outside [the bride gets the carport]). Initially, I wasn't real keen on having part of the space a carport (a money-saving strategy...), but seeing the elevations and wanting to save and covet a large fig tree in that corner of the lot, I think this will work just fine.


7.17.2011

the windows are the windows to your soul


Been thinking about and struggling to understand energy efficiency and windows, which ties into broader subjects related to insulation, energy efficiency, and climate (more on that later…). In short, as far as I can tell, insulation, window characteristics, and wall (and roof) design depends on where you are at climatically. At first blush, this seems obvious, but it becomes less so when you wade into the details. For example, one would think that whatever is good for keeping heat inside in a cold climate would work just as well for keeping heat out. But that ain’t so. As near as I can tell, it all boils down to the (apparent) fact that it is easier to control heat than it is to control cool. But I’m still thinking about that…

My handwringing over this comes from our starting-point decision to use storefront aluminum windows for the house. Storefront aluminum windows are sleek and durable, and they sure look mighty fine in a modern house. However, passivhausers would rather poke their eye out with leaky ductwork than put aluminum windows in their houses. And for good reason: Aluminum is a great conductor of heat, even better than steel. Thermally broken aluminum windows are available, but even these windows don’t approach the overall energy-efficiency of wood, fiberglass, and vinyl windows.

One thing that has made it difficult to achieve an apples-to-apples comparison between different window designs is the lack of comprehensive data. The passivhaus subculture and the window manufacturers that cater to that subculture know how to do it. To do it right, you need to know the properties of the glass as well as the properties of the frame. Pretty basic stuff. However, most window manufacturers don’t report this data. Instead, they report numbers for a complete window of a seemingly random size. I say seemingly random because some manufacturers, if you read the fine print, test a ridiculously oversized window, presumably to minimize the less-than-desirable thermal properties of the frame. One manufacturer appeared to size its test windows to achieve a certain U-value. No apples to apples there even among windows of the same manufacturer (although it creates the mathematical possibility of teasing out an estimate of frame properties…). Some manufacturers only report the numbers for the glass, which is unfortunate and horribly misleading because the frame is often the thermal weak point.

So what’s a tossing-through-the-night-because-I’m-worried-about-them-darn-windows dude or dudette to do? Ultimately, I climbed the mountain to visit the Efficient Windows Collaborative. These fine folks show comparisons of energy costs among windows of different designs in different climatic settings across North America. What I get from poking around this site is that in Austin’s warm climate, having a low solar heat gain coefficient (SHGC; a measure of how much solar radiation comes through the window to warm your house) is the most important factor. In a cool climate, you want a higher SHGC because you want the sun to warm your house. In a warm climate, you want a low SHGC because the solar radiation is your thermal enemy. The U-value is a measure of non-solar radiation heat flow through your window. Having a low U-value appears to be less important in a warm climate than in a cool climate (see my graphic modified from the Collaborative above). A thermally broken metal frame is less efficient, but “only” results in heating and cooling costs some 5 percent higher than non-metal windows for San Antonio (some green-tinged folks would cringe at me using the word “only” here; see my modified graphic above).

The Efficient Windows Collaborative has a window selection tool to help folks evaluate different windows and identify manufacturers that meet your goals. They also recommend checking out some free software from Lawrence Berkeley Labs if you want to do your own thermal modeling. I don’t know about you, but that sounds hot!

7.16.2011

what lies beneath...




Back when we were courting lots, one of the factors we considered before making an offer was the surface geology. What lies beneath your lot has huge implications for your foundation. Ultimately a geotechnical firm will come out to drill a few boreholes before you build to see what lies beneath, but you can get a hint of what’s under those weeds before you buy the lot. And what’s under those weeds could save you, or cost you, a lot of money.
The key words I used above were “state geologic survey”. These are the folks that have pulled on their hiking boots and figured out the types of rocks and where those rocks are. As a result of this geologic mapping, they’ve also put together geologic maps, colorful renderings of what lies beneath. In some cases, particularly urban areas, the geologic survey may have even put together special maps of environmental geology geared toward, among other things, building and what the geology means for foundations. Most potential homebuilders aren’t aware of these resources. As it turns out, I have a degree in geophysics and worked, in my deep dark past, at the state geologic survey for a number of years. That gave us a leg up in these geologic matters.
Ideally, you want to stay away from clay and shale. Clay typically shrinks and swells depending on its water content. Shrinking and swelling means the ground beneath your foundation actually moves up and down. This would be fine if the ground moved the same amount at the same rate, but this is rarely, if ever, the case. All that shrinking and swelling winds up cracking your foundation if you are on a slab. Depending on how the ground moves, walls may crack and pipes may break. And messing with broken pipes in a slab is an expensive and miserably messy experience. Note that not all clays and shales are the same. Some move much less than others, but most move. Solid rock is best for building.
Austin sits squarely on a geologic transition point, and this has important implications for foundations. Millions and millions of years ago, there was a mountain range here, an ancestral extension of the Appalachians, that ran through Texas via Dallas through Waco through Austin through San Antonio and then out yonder to big Bend (where you can still visit remnants of these old mountains). The mountains are long gone, eroded and buried by other sediments, but they strongly influence the present lay of the land.
When the Rocky Mountains pushed out of the Earth some 65 million years ago and again 23 million years ago, they also lifted up much of Texas up to and including the old Appalachians. This caused sediments to the east and south of the old mountain range to sluff off toward the Gulf of Mexico. This created the Balcones Fault Zone, which gives the central spine of Austin its geologic complexity (don’t worry: this fault zone has been dead for millions of years). Because of all this faulting, you can have solid rock here and, ten feet later, mushy clay there.
Fortunately, Austin has a report on environmental geology (“Environmental Geology of the Austin Area: An Aid to Urban Planning” published by the Bureau of Economic Geology. Yeah, it was published in 1976 but, trust me, the rocks haven’t changed much since then…). Included in this report is a simplified geologic map that shows the location of clay, limestone, sand and gravel, and basalt (Austin had a volcano pop off back in the good ole days!). The report also includes the more detailed geologic map; however, this requires more interpretation for a non-rock person. If your area doesn’t have such a report, I reckon you could talk to someone at your geologic survey about the rocks in the area or even try talking to a geotechnical firm to get a heads up on what to look for.
One thing we avoided when looking for lots was the Del Rio Clay. Living in a house on this clay is like riding a slow motion roller coaster, including the screaming… Del Rio Clay was a deal breaker for us. If you’re looking to build close to a creek, then you’ll probably have to deal with alluvium, sand and gravel in the creek bed, which can extend for quite a distance from the present location of the creek. Friends building a house nearby and close to the creek had to install piers 30 feet deep on one side of their house to hit competent rock for their foundation. Another think we looked for was faulting. Building over a fault can be a problem, especially in California! Here in Austin it’s a potential problem if there’s different geology on the other side of the fault. For example, limestone on one side and shale on the other can be a challenge if your foundation has to straddle the fault. Same rocks on both sides? No problem.
So what did we find under our lot, at least according to the geologic maps? Austin Chalk. Good solid fine-grained limestone that is great stuff to build on. Nice neighbors around the corner from our lot that just built a house with geothermal (more on that later…) were kind enough to show us their geotechnical report. Thin topsoil, 10 feet or so of weathered (tan) but competent chalk, and then many feet of unweathered blue chalk. It’s a beautiful sight (and not just because I did my dissertation on the Austin Chalk south of Dallas).
One thing to note: geologic maps are often interpretive. Geologists get clues of the geology from where the rock is exposed, from boreholes, and from the vegetation growing on the surface (certain plants prefer certain geology). In other words, they have to fill in the blanks by connecting the geologic dots. That means that the maps may not be accurate, especially down to the resolution of a city lot. For example, if we had seen that a fault had Del Rio Clay on our neighbor’s lot but Austin Chalk on our lot, we would have been a little nervous. That fault probably wasn’t mapped at a lot-level of accuracy, in which case we might have Del Rio Clay under our lot or, even worse, Del Rio Clay and Austin Chalk. The other thing to note is that these maps show surface geology. For example, that limestone you see may only be a few feet thick or it maybe a hundred feet thick. If that the limestone is underlain by shale, a far less competent rock (as is the case with the Austin Chalk underlain as it is by the Eagle Ford Shale), thickness is important. However, if your property is in the middle of a lot of stuff of a certain preferred geologic flavor (as we are), you are probably OK. Ultimately, your geotechnical contractor will confirm your situation.

7.14.2011

mug shots




It occurred to me the other day that elevations are like mug shots: You see what the suspect looks like from the front and in profile and how tall said suspect is. hmmm... Glad to have this one in custody...

Here comes the rain(water harvesting) again


"Rainwater harvesting..." The words faded and the potential builder smirked a wee bit. He may have even winced from biting his tongue. "How big of a tank are you planning?"

"Five thousand gallons."

"Five thousand gallons! Wow! You know what you're talking about!"

Indeed, we plan to include a five thousand gallon rainwater tank in our build. The builder smirked a wee bit because he knows what we know: water goes shockingly fast. We have an 800-gallon tank at our current house, and it's amazing how quickly that water goes, especially in this wacky flood-now, drought-later Central Texas climate. A typical family in Austin will use about 2,000 to 4,000 gallons a month for the yard during the summer months. More if you have a pool. Even more if you have a garden. And even more than that if you’re washing your pigs every Thursday night. The more rain we can harvest, the better. I'd love to do 10,000 gallons (my original plan), but I'm not sure where we'd put the other tank...

Fortunately we live in a town where the city gives a rebate for rainwater harvesting systems. Austin provides 50 pennies for each gallon of your unpressurized system with the total rebate not to exceed 50 percent of the cost of your system or $5,000 over your lifetime. That's a pretty healthy rebate for rainwater. Tanks tend to run about a buck a gallon, generally less the larger the tank gets. In addition, you don't have to pay state sales tax on rainwater equipment.

Note that I wrote “unpressurized” above. If your system is pressurized, that is, you have a pump hooked up to it, something you'll need to do to run your sprinkler or even a drip system, the rebate is even better: 100 pennies per gallon. However, there's a catch: You have to install and maintain a reduced pressure zone backflow preventor, something known in the bidness as an RPZ. An RPZ has to be installed at the street near your city meter by a certified plumber (I hear estimates of $600 to 1,000) and it has to be tested annually ($100 a test) by a certified RPZ tester. The cost of that annual testing pretty much kills any money savings you might hope to achieve with a pressurized system. And RPZs are kinda ugly, sticking up out of the ground all bony and whatnot (although I imagine the good folks at the American Backflow Prevention Association [and their Texas chapters] find them rather heart-racing...).

The RPZ requirement drives urban rainwater types bug-eyed batty. The RPZ is required to protect city water supplies. If there's a pressure drop in the city system and you have a hose in your rainwater tank, your rainwater (termed “water of an unknown quality” in the RPZ subculture) may get sucked into the city’s distribution system. In that case, your neighbor may be drinking your rainwater (be sure to send him a bill!). What? You don’t plan on ever putting a hose in your tank or, if you do, you plan on having a substantial air gap (a lo-tech but effective way of protecting the city’s water supply)? Tough luck: you still need that RPZ. And the annual testing.

Until this last legislative session, it was against state law to use rainwater for potable uses in your house if you were hooked up to a public water supply system. You could use rainwater for non-potable uses such as flushing toilets and washing clothes. However, drinking rainwater is a whole nuther deal that requires filtration and a little UV to kill the wriggling nasties you don’t want in your gut. Furthermore, if you wanted to be as reliant as possible on rainwater for all of your home's needs, you'd need tanks in the 20,000 to 30,000 gallon range. There’s generally not enough back yard in town for tanks that size.

Nonetheless, I feel deeply committed to using rainwater for outdoor use at our new property. Rustling the rain conserves water, the plants like it, and, quite simply, collecting rainwater makes us happy. The tank at our current house is made by Texas Metal Cisterns, and it’s a fine tank. But my new love is made by an Australian company called BlueScope. BlueScope produces portable, galvalume, install-in-place systems with a rubber-lined storage system. And the tanks are beautiful and modern with an optional roof fascia that gives the tanks some rings-of-Saturn mid-century cache. With a diameter of 11 feet and a height of 7 feet 3 inches for the 5,000 gallon tank, she's got big feet, but she can sure hold her liquor. Because Central Texas is rainwater central USA, we can get the tank locally.

Our plan is to put the tank in the back rear of the lot and feed her from the garage roof and part of the house. We love the idea of an aqueduct running 15 to 20 feet from the garage to the tank. The local BlueScope dealer says there's no need for a first flush system if the gutters are adequately protected, but it appears the city requires one. And any system greater than 500 gallons applying for the rebate needs to have plans approved and the final system inspected by the city. So there.

How much water can you collect? The Texas Water Development Board has an easy-as-pie and coo-as-poo spreadsheet to help size your rainwater system whether it’s for indoor and/or outdoor use (much rainwater literature is directed toward rainwater drinkers…). The City of Austin uses roof area multiplied by 5 or landscaped area multiplied by 4 as a rule-of-thumb that seems somewhat reasonable.

Postnote: It turns out that the tank I love (the one pictured above) is 3,000 gallons. A smaller footprint of 8 feet 10 inches. Decisions, decisions...

It’s raining links!:

Previous post on rainwater harvesting.

City of Austin FAQ on rainwater harvesting (including quite a few on the RPZ requirement).

City of Austin rainwater harvesting factsheet.

HarvestH2O.com: An online rainwater harvesting community

Texas Rainwater Catchment Association

American Rainwater Catchment Systems Association

7.08.2011

Haiku for the book “From Bauhaus to Our House” by Tom Wolfe


The esteemed Tom Wolfe
And modern architecture
Do not quite square up…
“From Bauhaus to Our House” by Tom Wolfe (yes, THAT Tom Wolfe, the same one who invented the phrase “good ‘ole boy”) is a dripping-in-blood-from-the-fingertips diatribe against modern architecture, specifically the International Style. He simple hates everything about it, from its tenets (glass corners, flat roofs, honest materials, lack of color, expressed structure) to its theoretical underpinnings (really, he hates the simple fact it has theoretical underpinnings) to his belief that modernism changed architecture from a client-focused endeavor to an architect-focused endeavor (one cannot break with theory, after all…).
Tom claims that the International Style (so named because early practitioners from a variety of countries produced structures that looked very similar) has deep Marxist/socialist roots (a potentially powerful [and potentially hyped?] argument as this book was published in the heat of the cold war in 1981). The Internationalists set out to create a purer form of architecture unadorned with frivolous decoration. According to Wolfe, the Internationalists eliminated anything perceived as bourgeois from their structures. Decorative trim? Gaudy jewels of the spoiled princess... Pitched roofs? Crowns of decrepit nobility... Color? Garish badge of the boorish braggart...
Internationalists strived to strip structure to its pure and honest essence, all for the common man (and common woman, one presumes). Ironically, homes in the International Style tend to only be built and owned by the upper middle class or wealthy. As the internet-infused youth yarble these days: “FAIL.”
Wolfe blames the movement of the modern malaise to our American shores on the eviction of the Bauhaus elite from Nazi Germany (another reason for him to hate Hitler, I presume). Once installed into positions of influence by adoring fans, the Bauhausers set about Bauhausing the world. Mies van der Rohe, he of “Less is more”, the Sears (now Willis) Tower, the Barcelona Chair, and “My architecture is almost nothing”, was a leading lieutenant of this German architectural invasion. You can pretty much blame him for blocky glass buildings or, in Wolfe’s eyes, for ruining the world.
And while modern architecture is not for everyone, there is beauty there, both in the houses and in the ideas behind the houses. The Schroeder House, Falling Water (Frank Lloyd Wright’s [half] answer to International Style), the Mandel House, the Lovell House, and many others are quite beautiful and striking, in part due to how radical they were for their time and in part because they simply are what they are: sculptural works of art born from the hands of genius. Minimal yet artfully assembled. Unadorned yet adorable. Unfortunately, Wolfe doesn’t see this beauty among the blockiness, lost as he is, I imagine, in a bonfire of cubist bathroom vanities yearning bitterly for days gone by…

7.05.2011

living room


Loving what this dude over at Wheat Ridge, 80033 did with his ceiling and wall in his living room...