We are currently closed while we propagate and grow plants for fall.
We’ll reopen on October 1 for the next planting season
More Than a House
We didn't set out to build an environmental showcase. We were looking for a practical way to build a unique home we could afford. Straw bale construction caught our attention because it was different and appeared to offer lower construction costs.
As we researched, we discovered something much bigger. We learned about energy efficiency, agricultural waste, resource use, and the environmental impact of conventional building materials. We began to understand how the choices we make when building can affect the world around us.
I often told my children that one person may not be able to change the world alone, but if each of us does our small part, together we can make a difference. Building a straw bale home became our small part.
That decision started a journey that eventually grew into DesertStrawHouse. What began as a home became a native plant nursery, wildlife gardens, and an ongoing commitment to living more thoughtfully in the desert.
How it Started
Our journey began with a very ordinary story.
There wasn't one big reason. There were lots of small ones.
Our family had simply outgrown the house. Mark worked long hours and went to bed early, while the kids were getting older and wanted a little more freedom to stay up later during school breaks without worrying about waking Dad. We needed a little more separation between bedrooms, a little more breathing room, and a place to store things like our boat and camping trailer.
So we decided it was time to move.
We put our house on the market just before the holidays, thinking it would take a few months to sell and give us plenty of time to figure out what we wanted next.
Instead, it sold almost immediately.
Suddenly, we weren't just dreaming about a move - we needed somewhere to go.
We looked at properties throughout the Coachella Valley, but nothing really felt right. Then we stepped onto this property, and we knew.
More than twenty years later, I still find it difficult to put into words exactly why it felt so special. The views are extraordinary. From here we can see all three mountain ranges that surround the Coachella Valley. When winter storms move through the San Gorgonio Pass and clouds wrap around the mountains, I often stop what I'm doing to watch. Even after all these years, it still takes my breath away.
The property sits in the foothills rather than on the valley floor. The land rises and falls. Massive rock outcroppings emerge from the desert. The boulders are streaked with colors and textures that I still admire today, even though I know very little about the geology behind them. Every turn reveals a different perspective, a different view, a different reason to stop and look.
The foothill location also means wildlife. Coyotes, quail, rabbits, lizards, hawks, and countless other desert creatures move through the landscape. Long before we planted a single garden, this place already felt alive. We didn't realize it at the time, but that connection to the surrounding desert would eventually become one of the most important parts of our lives.
There wasn't a spot on the property that didn't have a beautiful view. We could already see ourselves living here.
What we didn't know yet was that this property would completely change the direction of our lives.
Siiting in Bandelier National Monument designing what would be our new home
Building the House
Deciding to build a straw bale home and actually building one turned out to be two very different things.
Neither of us had ever built a house before. We weren't contractors, architects, or engineers. We were simply two people with an idea, a piece of land, and a willingness to learn.
I've often been asked how we had the confidence to take on a project like this when neither of us had ever built a house before. The truth is, it wasn't confidence.
We didn't know what we were doing.
We were simply willing to try.
That mindset gave us the confidence to begin, even when we didn't yet know how we would get to the finish line.
Because I couldn't find a house plan that truly fit our needs, I decided to design the house myself. Looking back, I realize that was a bold decision for someone with no design experience and no knowledge of CAD software. At the time, it simply felt like the next step.
There were no smartphones, no YouTube tutorials, and no online communities dedicated to owner-builders. What I did have was a copy of The Straw Bale House. That book became my bible. It traveled everywhere with me and was consulted countless times throughout the project.
Early in the process, we hired a straw bale consultant. His practical involvement in the project was fairly limited. He connected us with engineers and helped point us in the right direction, but perhaps his greatest contribution was simply giving me the confidence to begin. At a time when everything felt overwhelming, having someone who had done it before made the project seem possible.
Mark and I approached the project with very different strengths. I tended to be the researcher and planner. Mark is a natural problem solver with an intuitive understanding of how things work and how they fit together. I would spend hours researching a construction detail, then explain the concept to him, and more often than not, he would immediately understand what needed to happen next.
While he wasn't a contractor, he had helped friends in the trades and had a practical understanding of construction that proved invaluable. Together, we approached problems from different directions. I gathered information and asked questions. Mark translated those ideas into something tangible and buildable.
Of course, no one around us knew how to build a straw bale house either. We took what we understood about conventional construction and adapted it to a building method that was unfamiliar to nearly everyone involved.
The house was also built by many hands. Friends showed up to help. Our children, who were just starting middle school at the time, worked alongside us. Their friends came and spent the weekends helping too. Our new neighbor would show up every Saturday and Sunday morning ready to work. Some days felt more like community projects than construction projects.
Along the way, countless people shared their knowledge and expertise. Bank employees patiently explained construction loans and draw schedules. Inspectors took the time to show us what they wanted and why. Engineers, suppliers, tradespeople, and contractors answered questions we didn't even know we should be asking.
One of the lessons I learned during that process was that kindness and patience are often superpowers when navigating complicated systems.
Another thing that worked in our favor was that our strengths complemented one another. Building a home requires an incredible number of decisions, and we were fortunate that we generally communicated well and shared a similar vision for what we wanted to create.
Meet Jim & Curtis
Two of the people who helped make this house possible.
Nearly every Saturday and Sunday morning, we'd find Jim standing on the ridge between our properties waiting for us to get started. He worked alongside us throughout much of the build and became a regular part of the crew.
Curtis would work long hours into the night deciphering my electrical notes and helping us wherever we asked.
You will recognize their names in the journals
Throughout the process, people regularly warned us that remodeling and building projects were "marriage killers." Fortunately, we had already survived a successful remodel together, so we were fairly confident we'd survive building a house as well.
I'm proud of what we accomplished together. The house reflects both of us, the different strengths each of us brought to the project, and the generosity of the many people who helped us along the way.
I'm also grateful that our children were able to be part of the experience. They didn't just watch a house being built; they helped build it. They spent weekends working alongside us, solving problems, making mistakes, and learning as we learned.
They gained something far more valuable than construction experience. They watched us tackle something we had never done before, make mistakes, and figure things out.
You don't have to know everything before you begin. Sometimes you just have to be willing to take the first step and keep learning. Whether it's building a home, creating habitat, conserving resources, or simply taking on something you've never done before, small actions add up over time.
Our children didn't just hear those ideas. They saw them put into practice.
That may be one of the most meaningful things to come from the entire project.
The construction journals document the details of that journey - the drawings, challenges, milestones, and day-to-day work that went into building the house. But what I remember most isn't the construction itself. It's the people who gave their time, shared their knowledge, and helped make it possible.
Most strawbale homes have a "Truth Window," a window into the wall that lets you see the truth inside. This is ours...
How It Changed Us
When we began building our straw bale home, we thought we were simply building a house.
Looking back now, I can see it was the beginning of a much larger journey.
The research that first introduced me to straw bale construction also introduced me to new ways of thinking about resources, waste, energy use, and the choices we make every day. I began learning that recycling wasn't the whole answer. Reducing consumption mattered too. I started paying more attention to where materials came from, how they were used, and what happened to them when we were finished with them.
When it came time to landscape the property, I knew I wanted it to feel like it belonged here. I wasn't interested in creating a traditional garden or a landscape that looked imported or disconnected from the surrounding desert. I wanted visitors to feel as though they had stumbled upon it rather than arrived at a planted garden. As if a little more rain had fallen here over the years and the desert had simply filled in around us.
To do that, I had to start paying attention to what was already here.
That simple decision led me to look more closely at the landscape around us. I began noticing plant communities, how different species grew together, and how the desert functioned as an ecosystem rather than a collection of individual plants.
Living on the property deepened that connection even further. The more time I spent watching the wildlife around us, the more I wanted to understand it. The quail, coyotes, rabbits, hawks, lizards, insects, and countless other species weren't just passing through. They were part of a complex web of relationships that had existed long before we arrived.
Some of those lessons were harder than others.
At first, I didn't like watching predators hunt. I didn't like seeing roadrunners take quail chicks or hawks catch birds. My instinct was to root for the prey. Over time, however, I came to understand that a healthy ecosystem depends on all of its parts. Predators, prey, scavengers, pollinators, and decomposers all play important roles. Learning to appreciate those relationships, even when they made me uncomfortable, helped me better understand how nature works and deepened my respect for the complexity of the desert around us.
As my interest in wildlife grew, so did my interest in habitat. I wanted to create a landscape that supported the animals already living here. That led me to native plants.
The problem was that many of the plants I wanted simply weren't available.
So I learned to grow them myself.
What began as a desire to create a landscape that fit the property eventually led to learning about propagation, seed collection, plant communities, wildlife habitat, pollinators, and ecological restoration.
None of this was planned.
Each step simply led to the next.
Looking back, I can see the thread connecting it all. One question led to another. One discovery led to another. Over time, those small steps became DesertStrawHouse Native Plant Nursery.
In many ways, the house was not the destination.
It was the beginning.
Twenty Years Later
More than twenty years have passed since we moved into our straw bale home.
People often ask whether I would do it again.
The answer is yes.
What Worked
One of the most remarkable features of the house is how quiet it is. With the windows closed, you feel almost wrapped in a cocoon. Wind, traffic, and everyday sounds simply don't penetrate the walls the way they do in a conventional home. Even after all these years, it remains one of my favorite features.
The house has also proven to be incredibly durable. Since moving in, we have occasionally opened sections of walls to access utilities or make repairs. Each time, the straw inside has remained golden, dry, and remarkably unchanged.
We also live near both the San Andreas Fault and a smaller fault running through the hills behind the property. Over the years we have experienced several significant earthquakes, including a few where we were very near the epicenter. The house has come through all of them without damage.
The thermal performance has also lived up to expectations, though perhaps not in the way many people assume. Straw bale homes are not magically cooler in summer or warmer in winter. What they do exceptionally well is resist temperature change. Once the home reaches a comfortable temperature, it tends to stay there. That stability is one of the home's greatest strengths.
Of course, the opposite is also true. If you allow the house to become cold during the winter, it takes longer to warm back up. Every advantage comes with a tradeoff.
What Surprised Us
Straw bale construction is also messier than most people imagine. I often joke that straw is nature's glitter. It gets everywhere.
Years after construction was complete, I was still finding pieces of straw in shoes, boxes, and unexpected corners of the house. One of my friends even called me more than a year later to announce she was throwing away a bra because straw was still working its way out of it.
On the other hand, building with straw bales is surprisingly straightforward. The bales are heavy, but the process itself isn't complicated. If you can stack blocks, you can stack bales. Our children helped build the walls. The challenge isn't understanding how to do it. The challenge is the labor.
What We Learned
Living in a house with walls nearly two feet thick teaches you a few things.
If I were designing the house again, I would pay closer attention to window placement around sinks and counters. Reaching across a counter and then another two feet of wall to clean a window quickly loses its charm.
I also have a greater appreciation for the tradeoffs involved in passive solar design. The overhangs, shading, and window placement work exactly as intended, but I sometimes miss having large sunny windows and the plants I could have grown in them.
Every design decision involves compromise.
Was It Less Expensive?
One of the most common questions we receive is whether straw bale construction is less expensive than conventional construction.
For us, the answer was yes - but only because we performed much of the labor ourselves and had help from friends, family, and neighbors.
Straw bale construction is labor intensive. Had we hired contractors to perform all of the work, the final cost would likely have been equal to or greater than conventional construction.
Would We Do It Again?
Absolutely.
That doesn't mean I recommend straw bale construction for everyone. Today, there are many ways to build an energy-efficient and environmentally conscious home, some of them far simpler than stacking and plastering straw bales.
But for us, it was the right choice.
We loved the look of traditional adobe architecture, and the thick plastered walls helped create exactly the aesthetic we were hoping for. The house feels substantial and timeless. Even after all these years, it still feels like it belongs here.
The best way I can describe it is with a cookie. A store-bought cookie can be good - sometimes even great. But there is something different about a homemade cookie. It is difficult to explain, but you know it when you experience it.
That's how I feel about this house.
Years before we built our home, I walked into a straw bale house in Santa Fe and felt something I couldn't quite explain. Twenty years later, I've watched visitors walk into this house and have similar reactions.
I've spent a lot of time trying to understand why. Perhaps it's the natural materials. Perhaps it's the quiet. Perhaps it's the sense of permanence created by the thick plaster walls. Or perhaps it's something else entirely.
I honestly don't know.
What I do know is that this house feels different. It felt different the first time I walked into a straw bale home, and it still feels different today.
And that's why I would do it again.
Construction Journals
The story above is the condensed version. During construction, I kept a journal documenting the project as it happened. Together with photos and drawings, these journals capture the successes, frustrations, lessons learned, and day-to-day reality of building a straw bale home.
The entries have been preserved largely as they were originally written. While I have occasionally added notes or clarifications years later, they remain a snapshot of what we were thinking and experiencing at the time.
You're welcome to explore the journals.