So many things can influence a project's design. Trying to follow the principles of permaculture while remembering those sectors which influence a design is the basic lesson, I've come to learn.

We lived at one site for a while where the owner, fresh from a permaculture design course, decided to plant a fruit and vegetable garden. He had the idea from his course that the gardening techniques and tools discussed guaranteed the success of any project anywhere. After all, he would be working with nature, right?

So, fueled with the energy of the newly enlightened, he laboriously hauled in tons of broken concrete (recycling is good, right?) to his high hilltop home. It was for the garden, you see, and the garden was going right outside his kitchen door, like he'd been taught (access by proximity is good-put things where they are near the place of use!), although right outside happened to be the edge of the hillside dropping away.

He nearly broke his back terracing that steep slope (maximizing edge is supposed to increase production, right?) outside his kitchen, and painstakingly installed concrete paths between all the concrete-walled beds (minimizing impact on the soil, you see).

He labored for months to grow food outside his kitchen door.

He planted fruit trees and vegetables and beautiful flowers to woo the bees, and he wiped his brow and awaited the harvest.

And watched as the garden baked in its concrete beds, burned by the all-day sun of a western sky, and desiccated by constant afternoon winds...

When we arrived, the plants were still alive, but struggling. Life was hard for them. They weren't pioneer species, equipped for such harsh conditions. They were farther along in the chain of natural succession, and they were out of place and out of time.

My husband and I worked to coddle them, blanketing them in deeper mulch to soothe their sunbaked roots, and began a series of strawbale windbreaks to shelter the young fruit trees....but it was so much energy for so little return. It was quite depressing in fact, knowing that so much had gone into this garden's creation, and so little was coming out. And knowing that very little would come out. If the fruit trees had been planted after a shelter belt of sturdier trees were in place, maybe. If the vegetables had been protected by the comforting presence of woody shrubs or sturdy perennials, maybe. If there were less of a heat sink from all the concrete, maybe. If the outside influencing energies on the site were different- aha! That was it.

If a productive garden were the objective, than there were far better sites on the property to install one. And that is indeed what we did.

On the leeward side of the house, near the front door and the driveway, was a perfect spot for a vegetable garden- flat, easily accessible and with afternoon shade. We built the garden there- and it flourished.

The experience of that harsh, windblown site imprinted on me the absolute necessity of a complete sector analysis in any design- no matter how brilliant it appears to be on its own. If you fail to consider all the outside influencing energies, your design will be unsustainable.

Of course, that said, I've made many of my own design mistakes as well....most of them spring from my intrinsic characteristic of impatience. When I want something to be, I usually want it so much that it becomes a compulsion- and I need to have it done now!

I remember when I first got chickens- a dream come true!- "Must get chickens now. Have space now. Friends have chicks now"- and yet I wasn't set up for them. I trusted that I could whip up some variation on the theme of chicken tractors-portable bottomless coops- and knew that there was plenty in the boneyard with which to work.

Some sturdy wire- not chicken-was molded into an oval chicken tractor, with some tarps attached for shelter. I was quite proud of the no-nails needed enclosure, and my young chickens were promptly moved into their new home.

Ah, but insufficient sector analysis came back to bite me- or, rather, my chickens.

I woke up one morning to find headless bodies in the tractor, victims of bold bobcats seeking an easy target through the wire's openings.

As small as I thought the spaces were, they weren't small as chicken wire (hence, the name). I knew something different had to be done, if I wanted fresh eggs...so let me tell you- my other intrinsic characteristic is an overwhelming need to make do with what's at hand- even if it takes more energy in the long run. So I covered my construction-wire chicken tractor in chicken wire and tried again!

Next thing I knew, some predator simply lifted up the tractor and snagged the hens. Further design modifications needed immediately!

For some reason, I wanted to keep the frame of that wire tractor, but still have a safe zone for the chickens. So my husband, humoring me, built a sturdy wooden covering over that old frame, and raised it up further so it was of true coop dimensions now.

It was a beautiful coop: salvaged wood paneling, stylish porch supported by turned wooden legs, my husband's signature metal spirals adorning the roof- but we had created something other than just a chicken house.. By covering the wire frame with wood, we had constructed a pocket 1 inch wide all around the coop, close to food and water, sheltered from the elements and predators. We had created the perfect rodent habitat.

Now, my hens were tough girls- they had to be, being the ones surviving the previous predator nightmares- and they were known to kill and eat a mouse if they caught one, but the new coop inhabitants were rats- giant ones, and their presence constituted serious competition for food and water. A definite design flaw, and one that demanded a fix. Tear off the paneling, cut out the wire infrastructure, and rebuild....

Since then, we've moved on. We're at a new project site, blank slate, endless possibilities.. I know what I'm supposed to do: analyze all the sectors. I'm watching the wildlife; I'm watching the elements. I'm looking for all the outside influencing energies. But it's so hard when I'm so eager to start. I better watch myself.