Thinking about the outhouse commenters… I should qualify that not all outhouses are created equal. There are privately owned outhouses like the ones we had when we were beach urchins 50-some years ago. When I was around three years old and we still spent our summers in The Old Cabin (before we built the moomincabin next door), there was a place Behind The Door where a potty was kept for children who were small enough that when they needed to go, THEY NEEDED TO GO!!! No time to walk out back to the outhouse.

I can remember being three and The Commander telling me it was no longer appropriate for me to use the potty when MEN were in the living room. As near as I could figger, “men” meant Lewie Read, one of my dad’s lifelong friends (who never married or had children). I did NOT want to use the outhouse. But I’m sure that The Comm was sick and tired of having to dump the contents of the potty. And so I learned to use the outhouse. When we built the moomincabin, we built our *own* outhouse but The Old Cabin Outhouse was always my fave (vampires and werewolves hung out at ours at night). This photo from The Marquis’s blog is approximately what it looks like when you step outside The Old Cabin Outhouse and look up. Did it smell bad? Well, yes and no. It didn’t smell like Pine Sol but it wasn’t really all that bad. Shining a flashlight down into the hole? Not good. But we all occasionally did it.

It’s a private outhouse. Family and guests only. And it’s on the shores of Gitchee Gumee, so everything freezes in the winter…

But then there are public outhouses. I have visited more than a few of those in my time. Back when the I75 SUV Speedway was first built, most of the rest areas had outhouses and they were not fun. Unknown liquids and other substances on the floor. Hold your nose, breathe through your mouth and try to keep from gagging… When the beach urchins were small, we once stopped at one of the sole remaining freeway outhouses. Alas, it was so gross that my poor little urchin vomited. I was gagging too. I understood and I helped her provide nitrogen to whatever plants were trying to grow there *behind* the damn outhouse… Why the heck did we just not stop at McDonald’s or whatever? Since then, at least along the freeways here in lower Michigan, those things have long been replaced.

I don’t regularly use The Old Cabin My Dear Uncle Harry’s outhouse when I am up at the moominbeach. I have been known to use it when we stop by in the winter. I could just as easily pee in the woods but thank you Harry for keeping that outhouse up. Gotta wonder how a guy from the Bronx ended up being the curator of a “museum” on the shores of Gitchee Gumee. Love you Harry.

It was so cold this morning that I didn’t take my 0-skunk-30 walk. We eventually dragged out when the temperature hit about 13 and did a couple mini-walks. We got about 4 miles total. I particularly loved walking in the Burns Stokes preserve. I love seeing the “bones” of the trees at this time of year and also to be able to see the river (or whatever) through them. And then there was the sweeeeeeeet little weed in the photooo…

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