The Details for the Passive House - Rising Walls

Wall make-up :

365mm insulated block construction - 140mm inner leaf, 125mm rigid Xtratherm  insulation and 100mm external leaf

Thermal Calculations :

20mm Render (sand/cement)
100mm outer block
125mm Cavity with 120mm CT/PIR (5mm cavity unventilated Low E)
140mm inner block
13mm Plaster
 This gives U-value 0.15

Floor Make-up : 

Note - The radon barrier/DPM was taken below the sub-slab instead of above - both acceptable but positioned below the membrane is protected during the build and adds

a waterproof membrane to the sub-slab.

Detail Drawings

Autumn colours and old farmstead rusty gate

Admiring the new trusses in the evening light

Carpentry by Brian Healy of

Brian Healy Carpentry,

Co Kilkenny

086 8562574

Brian will also be slating the roof and did the beautiful slate work

 on the restored farmhouse building.

The slate tiles arrived today on site.

First Floor

New Trusses in Early Morning Light

Flying concrete staircases and slabs!

The precast 6m long concrete floor panels being placed above the garage - guest rooms to be built above

Pre-cast pedestrian entrance stair

The precast concrete stairs to the walled garden

Butterflies and Thistles

Peacock Butterfly

Small Tortoiseshell

View from the Studio

A roof for the house this week!

County Kilkenny flag flying in support of the Kilkenny Hurling Team

The roof profile for the Glazed link between the garage/guest rooms and the kitchen

The East gable going up

View from the White Stemmed Birch Circle ...

It's Blackberry time - the hedgerows on the site are laden...

Berries in August/September

Flowers from June

Blackberry Picking

Poem by Seamus Heaney

Late August, given heavy rain and sun
For a full week, the blackberries would ripen.
At first, just one, a glossy purple clot
Among others, red, green, hard as a knot.
You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet
Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it
Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust for
Picking. Then red ones inked up and that hunger
Sent us out with milk cans, pea tins, jam-pots
Where briars scratched and wet grass bleached our boots.
Round hayfields, cornfields and potato-drills
We trekked and picked until the cans were full
Until the tinkling bottom had been covered
With green ones, and on top big dark blobs burned
Like a plate of eyes. Our hands were peppered
With thorn pricks, our palms sticky as Bluebeard's.
We hoarded the fresh berries in the byre.
But when the bath was filled we found a fur,
A rat-grey fungus, glutting on our cache.
The juice was stinking too. Once off the bush
The fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour.
I always felt like crying. It wasn't fair
That all the lovely canfuls smelt of rot.
Each year I hoped they'd keep, knew they would not.

Thanks to my Mom for sending the poem link to me ...

And up it goes ....