The seven year itch and an outhouse
Apparently my limit is seven years. Because ever since we bought this farm seven [and a half’] years ago, there’s been an outhouse sitting inside my barn. My dad made it — and delivered it — to our old home. Several years later, we moved back to Carroll County and the outhouse came too. Why it was unloaded inside the barn I can’t say. I use the excuse that I was painting interior walls and gestating at the time. Placement of the outhouse wasn’t top on my priority list.
Now it’s all I can think about. And last night as long, lazy shadows were creeping across pastures and clouds bruised the evening sky, I [finally] determined it was time to move the outhouse.
Yes, if you must know, the hubby was thrilled. He lives for moments like these.
He strapped it to the bucket of the skid steer and carefully maneuvered it out of the barn.
He slowly drove up a steep hill until he reached the northern end of the garden.
And then it was a back and forth tug-of-war between his driving abilities and my need to perfectly relocate the shed.
Eventually, the outhouse found it’s rightful spot beside the brand spankin’ new water hydrant. I must rave about that spigot for a moment. Typically we have to run several hoses to water the garden. Over the last few weeks, my darling husband has been digging to find the water line. He dug a four-feet deep trench about 30 feet — by hand — and still didn’t find the line. Exasperated and exhausted after many evenings with a shovel, he nearly gave up. Turns out he had only to dig one foot in the other direction to find what he was looking for. I helpfully suggested he could think of it as a lesson in patience and perseverance. He didn’t share my optimism.
outhouse garden shed is finally situated in its rightful place. There’s water for the garden. And just as soon as this road trip is over, I’ll be hauling stones, planting flowers and sprucing up the place. It will hold shovels and rakes and hoes and seeds.
Because it’s an outhouse … it’s meant to hold all my crap.
Sorry. I just couldn’t help it.