Marrowstone Island is home to some of the most impressively lavish homes in Jefferson County.

It's also home to some of the most simple dwellings, which is a focus for Greg Lalish, who in 2005 founded a group that later became Rainshadow Natural Builders "to get people who were interested together to exchange ideas."

Lalish said that natural building methods can save a lot of money, and tend to go with a "natural and local lifestyle."

Cob construction is one of Lalish's favorites.

Cob doesn't fit neatly into the same kind of building standards as traditional frame houses, said Lalish, who holds a degree in geology but has made his living primarily as a residential builder. He defines himself first as a grandfather, and said he sometimes introduces himself as "Mr. Paula Lalish" in reference to his wife, Paula, who plays the harp at weddings and other events. It was at such a gathering in 1998 where Greg met someone who asked if he'd ever heard of cob. She was "a significantly fringe-y sort of person," and wanted to build a cob house.

WHAT IS COB?

Cob is an ancient construction technique involving a mixture of sand, clay and straw. Like other earthen construction techniques such as adobe or rammed earth, cob is inexpensive in terms of materials, but takes a lot of time and energy.

Earth building has been "known and used by indigenous peoples around the world for millennia and by Europeans for centuries," writes Christina Alexander in a 1994 article, "The $500 House: Redefining What We Call Home."

The word "cob" comes from an Old English root meaning "lump" or "rounded mass." It's made by kneading the mixture of straw and sand, clay or other materials with hands or feet, laying it up, squeezing it together like a hand-built clay pot, and waiting for it to dry. (Lalish worked briefly as a potter in the early 1970s). Cob building is like sculpting, so the possibilities are limitless – but that also means cob houses are hard to classify and may not be seen as compliant with building codes because their construction is different.

After meeting the fringe-y friend, Lalish looked into it, and took a cob workshop on Lopez Island in 1996 with the Cob Cottage Company, whose founder, Ianto Evans, is the "father" of cob building in the U.S. Lalish called Evans an "evangelist" of natural building and simple natural living and philosophy; he has taught all over the U.S. and many other countries.

In the nine-day workshop, Lalish "learned all the aspects of building" with cob. "Learned how to frame a roof for it, did a little foundation work... I was thrilled."

In 2002, Lalish did his first cob project, an oven, "a very nice, doable project," behind his shop on Marrowstone.

It's still there, but they don't use it much, and it's deteriorated because for three or more years, its only protection from the elements was a blue tarp.

"Should have built the shelter over it first," he said; this is advice he always gives to other people building a cob oven. "Always build the shelter first."

Now the oven is sheltered; Lalish intends for it to be a small wood-fired kiln, and to revive his old pottery skills.

WORKSHOPPING

Rainshadow Natural Builders' eight to 10 members meet sporadically, Lalish said. A demonstration cob structure is in the midst of being built on Malcolm Dorn's property behind Sweet Laurette's in Uptown, he added.

Lalish also teaches at some workshops at the Cobb Cottage Company's Northwest School of Natural Building, usually one nine or 10-day workshop a year in Coquille, Oregon. "It's been a really nice collaboration," and he usually gets to stay in a really nice cob house while he's there. "Part of my deal is I don't have to set up a tent. I'm an old guy."

The "tiny house with a tiny desk" where he stays in Coquille has a simple, inexpensive living roof, with plants growing on it. The ceiling is insulated with sheep's wool and scraps of recycled carpeting topped by a membrane. The place "has elements of everything you need," he said. The foundation includes a huge boulder that the bed sits on, dubbed, of course, "the bedrock."

Lalish said Evans asked him to teach workshops in Coquille partly because of his woodworking skills. After moving to Marrowstone in 1976, he built a log house, another form of natural building.

"Now that I've been through what I've been through, as a builder, there's a lot of things I would have done differently," he admitted, acknowledging also that he's currently working on a leak in that house that he built when he was 27 years old.

"The essence of building is not building something new, but solving problems as they arise," he said. "It takes way more creativity to fix something and fix it well."

BUILDING ALTERNATIVES

Workshops, he said, can teach everything one needs to build a cob house.

Cob is vulnerable to moisture, so it needs a good roof, and attention must be paid to the bases of the walls.

"Most importantly, what you come away with is the confidence to wade forward in the mud until you're done, no matter how long it takes. Make your own mistakes, correct them, and move on. Personal energy and persistence are way more important than money in the world of natural building."

When building with cob, "the secret is good boots and a good hat," he said. "A good foundation [and good overhang]." Thatched roofs need significant overhang to keep rainwater off the walls.

Lalish said there are thousands of cob buildings in the United Kingdom, some of which "have been lived in consistently for 600 years or more and are still comfortable, beautiful and a joy to spend time in."

The classic thatched cottage in England is cob, "built of mud and straw," he said. "When people question the viability of cob in this climate, look at the coast of Wales," he said, to see how long well-built, well-designed cob can last.

Lalish uses cob to build utility buildings, but not residences, partly to avoid building inspections. "A utility building you can build pretty much out of anything," he said.

"Cob is pretty unquantifiable as far as the engineer is concerned," he said. It's basically sand, clay, straw and a little water. "You can get away with a lot of variations" in materials, he said. "You gain a feel for what good cob is" by taking a workshop or otherwise working alongside experienced cob builders.

"I could picture someone building a beautiful cob house ... and getting the county down their necks, telling them to do this or that or they'll make them tear it down," he said.

"Building codes are a mixed blessing, from my point of view ... The codes are set up so you can build any kind of building, but the caveats are long, involved and expensive," Lalish said. "If you want to build a cob house, you will be fighting the authorities. It doesn't fit into their idea of a viable house."

A licensed architect or engineer could sign off on a cob house, and the county would accept that. But, he added, the architect would be sticking his or her neck out a lot to do so – were the building to fail, their reputation could be "damaged at the very least, and the natural building movement would suffer for it."

LIVING ROOF

The second cob structure Lalish built on his own property was started in October 2006; he invited people to come take a workshop with him to learn cob. It was his "first attempt at teaching the methods," he said.

Finished in February 2007, it is a round building about 10 feet in diameter, shaped like a circle "with one chord cut off the circle" for an opening that's about 8 feet by 8 feet, framed with unmilled timber from local beaches, that looks east onto a manmade pond on his property.

Lalish did two-thirds of the cob on his own; he "made a mix every morning as part of my morning exercise," he said. Slow and steady is the way to build cob, he said; the best cob "has straw crisscrossed all through it," with no "cold joints" where new material is added to old. "It's hard to integrate the stuff together," though it can be done by re-wetting the top and pushing straw from the new mix into the old.

Lalish's building also has a living roof. The lower edge of the back eave is about "chin height," so he can keep an eye on the plants up there.

"I think my building has one of the nicest living roofs I've ever seen," he said. The Lalishes use it as an extra bedroom. "It's a great place to wake up."

Lalish said when he discovered cob, it "changed me for the better. It was the perfect combination of my pottery experience, the study of geology and the experience of building houses for over 40 years. ... So for those of you out there thinking about mud and straw and round wood framing and living roofs – get busy and do it. It might just change your life."