Lush, sprawling gardens and fruit trees that surround artist David Brown’s home in Old Saybrook supply much of his food.

The forest provides firewood; buckets collect rainwater — the house in which he has resided for 35 years has neither central heating nor indoor plumbing.

It also lacks electricity — so no air conditioning, not even a fan.

“I find it harder living here in summer than in winter,” David admitted, while retreating to a shady spot on a sweltering afternoon this week.

He graciously gave our hiking group a tour of the grounds and distinctive residence when we stopped by on the way to a walk through the contiguous Great Cedars Conservation Area.

The 12-by-20-foot cottage is no ordinary home. Its walls are made of two-foot-thick bales of straw, held together with wire and coated with stucco.

Constructed in the 1970s by David’s high school classmate, Ben Gleason, with help from “every hippie on the shoreline,” the building, now known as The Hay House — remains the oldest such structure east of the Mississippi River.

It is filled with objects and implements that reflect the 67-year-old artist’s spiritual connection to Buddhism, reverence for nature, and belief in Thoreau’s admonition, “Simplify, simplify.”

“I hate it when people think I’m roughing it,” David said in a 2004 documentary by Jeannie Newman. “Compared to 90% of the world, I’ve got it made.”

At the time the Hay House was built, David, who graduated from Dartmouth in 1976 with a degree in geography, was living in Nepal, where he taught English and art to Tibetan refugees.

After years of roaming through Asia, David moved back to his hometown in the 1980s, and paid the Gleason family $100 a month to rent the house, situated on 350 acres off Ingham Hill Road. When the Gleasons later sold most of their land to the town to create a nature preserve, he purchased the Hay House and 12.5 acres.

Throughout the years, David has supported himself by selling produce, eggs, jam, honey and cut flowers to local restaurants and at farmers’ markets. He also sells his artwork.

One-man exhibitions at the Florence Griswold Museum, New Britain Museum of American Art and Bridgeport's Discovery Museum have featured a variety of portraits, landscapes and such eclectic works as a life-size installation depicting the interior and exterior of the Hay House in all seasons.

The hay used in the construction of David’s house had been cut from a field now dominated by a Tibetan stupa, a monument that Buddhists believe promotes harmony, prosperity, longevity, good health and peace.

More than 1,000 people attended a dedication for the stupa in 2007, which was built under the supervision of a Buddhist teacher.

Several other structures are scattered around the property: a composting outhouse; pergola bedecked with flowers; well-populated henhouse; storage shed with barred windows that had served as Old Saybrook’s jail in the mid-1800s; and David’s two-story art studio, rebuilt 14 years ago after a devastating fire.

Our group could have devoted an entire day to exploring the Hay House property, but we were determined to visit the adjoining conservation area that is home to Connecticut’s largest Atlantic white cedar tree.

“It’s in the middle of a swamp. Pretty mucky and buggy this time of year,” David warned when the five of us prepared to depart via a path behind his studio.

The narrow track connected to a wider path in the preserve’s west section, which we followed for a mile or so, accompanied by the clamor of traffic from nearby I-95. After we passed Lake Rockview, the trail ended at Ingham Hill Road. We crossed the road, turned onto Mill Rock Road, and walked up Merrill Lane to the east section trailhead.

Next: a brief stop to gaze at a little blue heron that Maggie Jones had spotted, not far from a crimson patch of cardinal flowers. The purple-headed bird, smaller than great blue herons we often see near water, was standing still as a statue among the reeds at Chalkers Millpond, waiting to feast on a small fish or frog.

Maggie, director emeritus of the Denison Pequotsepos Nature Center in Mystic, also pointed out a wood duck that flew by so fast I couldn’t have distinguished it from a house sparrow or bald eagle.

The path rose steadily through a corridor of mountain laurel before descending toward Lower Ingham Pond.

After veering off on yellow- and red-blazed trails, and crossing a powerline, we realized that David was right — it was mucky and buggy. The mosquitoes were particularly aggressive.

At this point, we agreed that viewing giant evergreen trees would be a lot easier in winter, with no leaves on deciduous trees to block the view. Plus, the ground would be frozen, not muddy. And best of all: No stinging insects.

Time to head back.

No matter — it had been a great day, highlighted by our visit to the Hay House.

We also enjoyed strolling for about five miles along upland sections of the Great Cedars Conservation Area on smooth, well-maintained trails. A walk in the woods is always rewarding.

So we’ll be back in a few months. The tree, which is probably a couple hundred years old, should still be there.