Seven Second Version:From stubborn ground rods and power problems to stove pipe acrobatics—this is how I powered up our Alaska yurt, learned the value of asking the right questions, and made it feel like home. Summer Break, Alaska Style Back in that season I mentioned in an earlier post, we’d hit a major slowdown in […]
Seven Second Version:The sound of rain on our yurt roof reminded me that building a home means nothing if I lose sight of the priorities—faith, family, and the life meant to fill it. What Makes a Man? There’s a definition of manhood by Robert Lewis that I once read. I keep coming back to it:A
Seven-Second Version:Amid Alaska’s mud season, lumber delays, and a bittersweet season of mourning and rejoicing, I was reminded—sometimes the wisest step isn’t to push harder… it’s simply to follow. Spring Breakup Season: Mud, Mess, and Making Time for Family in Alaska After a long, full Alaska winter packed with yurt building projects and life here
Seven Second Version:We were exhausted, out of time, and out of answers. So we picked up the phone. Turns out humility can build a yurt faster than pride ever could. Our Alaskan Yurt Build Nearly Stalled—Until We Called for Help The yurt was up… kind of. The bones were there, we had even framed some
Seven Second Version:We didn’t have instructions—just zip ties, paracord, and a whole lot of tenacity. The roof tried to fly away, the wind tried to win, but we kept tying knots. Because in the end, tenacity doesn’t mean getting it right the first time—it means not walking away when you don’t. We were knee-deep in
Seven Second Version: Self-sufficiency can build things. But community? Community builds lives worth living. There’s a myth that thrives in rugged places like Alaska: if you’ve got grit, gear, and just enough stubbornness, you can do it all yourself. And sure—self-reliance can build some impressive things. But I’m learning that community builds the kind of
Seven Second Version: Two ticking clocks: a yurt delivery and a baby delivery. With snow falling daily and no instructions in hand, I learned—slowly—to focus on what we can control and trust is a daily choice. So. We picked a yurt. Not just any yurt—a 34-foot-diameter beast of a yurt. And not just any yurt
Seven Second Version: We chose the wrong spot, but built on the right foundation—because in life and building, what you stand on matters more than where you start. When we bought raw land in Alaska, I thought: Hey, how hard could this be? A little brush clearing, a bunch of YouTube videos, maybe a rented
We were this close to settling into a perfectly normal life. Family nearby. Baby on the way. Apartment lined up. Everything was falling into place—until it didn’t. What started as a simple search for a rental turned into one closed door after another… until we found ourselves staring at a living room with a literal
Seven Second Version: We live in a yurt in Alaska, and we’re building a homestead from scratch—or I guess you might call it a Yurtstead. Mistakes, moose, frozen pipes, and all. This is our Yurtstead: raw, real, and rooted in something deeper. When people hear “yurt in Alaska,” they usually imagine one of two things:
