Tim Beck spent years designing and building homes. He’s had plenty of experience, having put together whole neighborhoods with business partners. They sold homes at Sexton Place for 15 to 20 years. By today’s standards, they were small houses, from 800 to 900 square feet. The homes sold very well—eleven in one year, and a total of 41.
Tim was next involved in building the Charleston row houses at Ransom and Pine in Fuquay. The group bought up a whole block of lots that were 25 feet deep and 15 feet wide and built 10 homes that were especially practical for women who needed a place of their own.
“The key to designing homes is to use graph paper to make the plans,” Tim says. The squares keep everything in perspective and all the elements can be moved around to get an idea of how things will fit. Having done that, he would run his ideas by his friend the architect, who would render the design using CAD/CAM software and add any tweaks he knew would help. Various partners added their strengths: one could schedule the many parts of a project, another knew all the building trades, and a third was great with people.
When Tim was ready to settle into his own place, he designed and built Fuquay’s only classic “tiny home,” which is just 320 square feet. It sits on land that has been in the family for generations. He considered living at the beach but was reminded by grandkids that they wanted him to be nearby. His nearest neighbor is a daughter whose home was built seven years ago. Other than her and her children, his neighbors are numerous deer, fox, possums, rabbits, and raccoons.
Tim researched some of the high-end campers that are available, but a house was much more cost effective. Plus, he wanted to bring heirlooms and mementos to furnish his own space, and to have the fittings and furnishings be to his own taste. When he moved, his possessions fit in one load in the back of the pick-up truck. It was time for a fresh start. He chose modern furniture to contrast with the many antique pieces, making for a pleasing, eclectic look.
Everybody who comes to the tiny house seems to like it. Guests enter through the sliding glass door just opposite the kitchen, where plenty of light filters in from three directions. It is comfortable, livable, and practical, while being beautiful, warm, and inviting. Everything he needs is there. It is easy to clean, and easy and cheap to heat and cool. For that, he installed a mini split wall unit that vents to the outside. His is electric, though they can also use gas. It is the smallest system available, rated for 400 square feet. The bill runs about $35 per month, or about half the cost of the combined water, sewer, trash pick-up and recycling.
The kitchen has open shelving for the pewterware dishes that were given to him over the years as gifts, blue Mason jars holding flatware and other implements, glass tumblers that come with memories, an antique serving tray, and a green glass salt and pepper set that is 100 years old. There’s a collection of Blue Willow mugs that were gifts as well. Oh, and a modern microwave oven. To the right is the small refrigerator-freezer, efficient and just the right size for one person. To the left is a bar sink, and to the left of that, a small pantry. By the pantry door stands his grandpa’s cane. What you do not find is a stove or oven. Instead, he has the choice of a crock pot, a hot plate, or the microwave. His healthy diet does not include much in the way of fried or baked foods. Each day, he eats his main meal out. He has a favorite diner, a favorite Italian place, and a favorite barbecue place.
Hanging on the wall next to the little sink is a small wooden bowl with a handle. The family always called it the sick tray. His mom would bring treats to a sick child tucked up in bed to help them feel cared for. A round table and two chairs by the picture window provide eating space or a work surface. Hanging on the wall is a flat screen television with a swivel mount that makes it easy to see from any angle in the open area.
The bathroom has a standard sink, toilet, and tub with shower. Along one wall are sliding doors that open to ten feet of hanging closet space with shelving above. A mystery switch operates the quietest vent fan I’ve ever (not) heard.
One wall shows off a collection of framed historic prints of Fuquay-Varina. Other framed prints are of family members. A century-old wooden chest stores winter gear and extra blankets. For a bedside table, he uses an antique round piano stool. A bookshelf by the door holds a fascinating collection of small family treasures, incorporated into the books and practical items. The most poignant is a round pillbox-size sample of the powder his mom used to wear. Olfactory memories are especially potent. Nearby are his dad’s military dog tags. On the top stands his grandma’s oil lamp, right next to a mantle clock. During storms when the power went out, she lit the oil lamp and taught them to spend quiet time, learning to “respect the storm.” There’s also the baby cup that was found in the well by Milano’s Pizza. It was used by his great-grandmother when she was an infant. Each item has a story, and I could have enjoyed the tales for hours.
On a wall shelf near the door are hung dozens of ribbons and medals Tim has amassed through his hobby of running. Except for a year and a half off because of a dislocated hip, he seems to compete every week. Usually there are races for various charities, where he meets “the nicest people.” He says he has always loved running, and when his son was young, running was something they did together. The clothing shelf bins contain stacks of neatly folded tee shirts with logos from some of the many events he has entered. He likes the 5K, 10K, and half-marathon races; anything longer than that becomes “too boring” for Tim. True to form, when he moved, he kept the most important ribbons and threw away about half. His favorite race of all time was a decade ago, when he won first place in Raleigh’s Magnificent Mile.
I asked if there are things Tim would have done differently. He said, “I would have put in an on-demand water heater. I would have used the next size larger bar sink.” And he has a spot by the pantry ready to add a feet-up lounge chair when he finds just the right one.
“I am so happy with the grounds,” Tim added. He built detached decking at the front and rear, put in a fire pit, and set up an outdoor eating area. With our mild climate, these areas are in use most of the year. There’s a hammock in the trees and a double swing to one side. Flower beds flank a graveled parking pad for his sporty red car.
In 1900, Tim’s grandpa planted a pecan tree that has now served three generations with shade, nuts, and a great place to swing. A custom metal plaque celebrates that tree and the passing years. It reads, “Pecan Tree Swing, established 1985.” It’s the focal point on the façade as you approach the tiny house.
Everything reminds Tim of “the value of intangibles.” My own mantra since downsizing to one-level living has become “less is more.” Marie Kondo taught us to keep only those possessions that “spark joy.” I have never seen that philosophy better illustrated. The joy is ongoing and contagious.
There are other tiny homes, but not in Fuquay-Varina. One subdivision has opened up in Raleigh. “They are beautiful,” says Tim.
Peace and beauty result from his philosophy. “The key is to surround myself with just the things that matter.”
