At home with one another

Fear not the cohousers.

That's the message from one of the leaders of a group that is developing a neighborhood together in Berlin.

Kathy Journeay said members of the group hope to garden, knit, share meals, make music -- and, yes, occasionally dress up in medieval garb and belabor one another with makeshift swords.

But she emphasized that the group is composed of ''pretty regular folks."

''We're not a church; we're not a cult; we're not a commune. We're not scary," said Journeay, one of Camelot Cohousing's founders. ''You don't need to believe a certain thing. You just need to want to live with others."

Cohousing developments are designed to build a sense of community among people. Cohousing proponents think the developments are an antidote to what they see as the increasing isolation of modern Americans.

Some of the 21 families who have signed on to the project share an avid interest in medieval history and plan to practice their hobby, which includes dueling with bamboo sticks, in the new development. But what truly unites the group is a desire to be part of a close-knit community.

Plans call for 34 typical condominiums, which will be grouped together to encourage neighborly interaction. The complex also will include a ''common house" that will have a kitchen, a large dining area, a playroom, a ''dojo" (a studio for music, yoga, and martial arts), guest rooms for visitors, and space for crafts.

Other amenities will include an archery range, a ballfield, a swimming pool, a meditation grove, and a fighting barn for the medieval sparring matches. Parking will be on the periphery to encourage walking.

The group, which hopes to break ground next fall, soon will seek approval from local boards in Berlin, a town of 2,400 about 35 miles west of Boston.

The best way to describe the group is ''geeks with hobbies," said Karen Hoffman, a 25-year-old pharmaceutical chemist.

The group is largely made up of ''computer and biotech people" she said at an August meeting in Northborough where Camelot tried to recruit members.

''This is not some '60s hippie idea," said Hoffman, who wears her hair in a long braid down her back. ''Which is not to say we don't like hippies."

The cohousing concept was developed in Denmark in the 1970s. There are now 165 such developments proposed or already completed in the United States, including 16 in Massachusetts, according to the Cohousing Association of the United States website, www.cohousing.org.

Cohousing projects are the conservative descendants of '60s hippie communes. They aren't as tightly knit as communes, where people often shared income and property and could be united by a religion or political beliefs.

Cohousers own their own homes, and while they may have a lot in common, they aren't required to sign on to any particular philosophy.

Camelot teamed up in June with a separate cohousing group, Mosaic Commons, to buy 55 acres that the two projects will share. Mosaic is planning to build 34 condominiums. Of the 68 total condos, 17 will be set aside as affordable housing.

Some residents say they are concerned about the project's size.

Bill Wheeler, a former town clerk who is a fifth-generation resident of Berlin, said he's not for or against the project but is worried about it.

''When you have 1,600 voters in all, throw another 100 or 200 at the town, it's quite a shock to the system," he said.

Wheeler said that although he believes the project could turn out well if it is scaled down, other people in town aren't so sure. Cohousing has a perception problem, said Wheeler.

Most of the 40 people who have signed on so far to the Camelot project are in their 30s, but there are also lots of children and at least one grandmother. Several of the younger adults, asked about their long-term plans, said they intend to settle permanently at Camelot.

Roughly half the group is involved in the Society for Creative Anachronism, which means they occasionally attend events where they plunge themselves into the Middle Ages -- dressing up in ornate costumes and enjoying crafts, music, and foods from the period.

Journeay, 36, of Marlborough, is an ardent supporter of cohousing. Energetic and outgoing, she speaks convincingly about its benefits.

With straight brown hair and glasses, dressed in business clothes, she doesn't look much like a medieval fighter, but that's how she met the other Camelot cofounders.

Journeay, a senior systems analyst for a healthcare insurer, has since turned to sewing period costumes instead of fighting.

But right now, there's little time for anything other than the project.

Her husband, John Davis, sometimes wears a shirt that says, ''Not tonight -- I have a meeting," referring to his wife's schedule of up to four meetings a week.

Journeay said she knows exactly why she is pouring so much of herself into Camelot. ''The dream of living in community," she said. ''There's family by blood, and there's family by choice. My parents live in Houston, and my brother lives in London, so I don't have family by blood around me."

She moved around a lot growing up, so she never experienced a sense of community, she said.

''If my life falls apart, if John gets sick or something, I know these people would be there for me," said Journeay. ''They would come and cook dinner so I could take care of him, and I would be pleased to do the same thing for them. That 'give support-get support' you do not see in modern society, and that, more than anything else, is what I crave."

At a recent meeting of Camelot members, the group feasted on pizza before getting down to business.

Although they see one another often, the borrowed meeting space in Hudson was filled with loud chatter and laughter like a reunion of long-lost friends. A few children ran around in pajamas. And the conversation was peppered with inside jokes, the kind that can only come from people who know one another well.

When the group is debating an issue, every person has the ability to veto, or ''red card," an idea until he or she can be persuaded.

That rule was tested several times when the group tried to finalize the project site plan, which shows roughly where buildings, walkways, and roads will be placed.

Kim Dunkelberg, a 29-year-old stay-at-home mother with a degree in chemical engineering, put down her knitting at one point to raise her red index card.

''I am very strongly opposed to the way it is now," she said sternly, referring to vehicle access to the common house. She said the plan would take drivers too close to the planned playground.

''Either we move the playground or no driving there," she said.

But another cohouser complained that if vehicles were not allowed access to the common house, the mail carrier probably would drop mail much farther away, on the main road, which would be ''the stupidest possible thing we could do."

After much discussion, the issue was resolved amicably. Members agreed that there would be minimal vehicle access to the common house with a formal policy to be established later. No red cards were raised.

Although several town officials have welcomed the two developments because they will preserve more than half of their 55 acres as permanent conservation land, some abutters are less than enthusiastic.

''I would love to get the project killed," said Karrie Haworth, who runs an animal sanctuary from her home. ''We're just going to keep fighting them on everything we can."

Haworth readily acknowledged that her husband made an unsuccessful attempt to buy the land to build six to eight houses on it. And she has also had a legal tangle with the cohousers over a technical issue. But she insisted that her concerns now are about traffic, the blasting she expects to come with construction, and the displacement of wildlife.

''It's a little scary," said Haworth.

Journeay said members are aware that cohousers are considered by some to be on the fringe.

''We've talked about how people perceive cohousing in general," she said. Cohousing is seen as hippies, and we have worked to try to overcome the perception of cohousing as weird."

To become a voting member of Camelot, a household must put down 5 to 10 percent of the cost of its unit. A large two-bedroom condo is estimated to cost $350,000, but the price could go up.

The two cohousing groups are seeking approvals under a state program that offers a streamlined permitting process when developers promise to set aside 25 percent of their units as affordable.

A lottery, to be held in the spring, is mandated by state law to fill the affordable units. Journeay said the group knows that it will be yet another challenge to sell the cohousing idea to those who win the lottery -- and find themselves in a very different kind of community.

''We are very aware we are going to need to take people who are new, bring them in, make them welcome, be attentive to their needs, but explain it's not just affordable housing, it's not just cheap housing, there's more to it than that," she said.

''It is something that concerns us but not enough to not attempt it."

Lisa Kocian can be reached at lkocian@globe.com.