Plein Air

My fella has a new love. It began several years ago on Cape Cod, and I thought that once home, he would let it go. But each year the fascination was renewed.

So now at least once, often two times a day, he disappears down the basement stairs out the back door, and I hear the rush of water as he takes yet another shower in our new outdoor stall.

Every summer after we returned from our one week at the Cape we would talk about the great time we’d had, the things we’d done, and the outdoor shower.

          “Why not?” I would say.

“How hard could it be to put one in?” He’d say.

         This year we did it.

And everyone seems to enjoy it. 

Given my druthers (and an extra $50,000), I’d put in a pool but with the scant sunny portion of the back yard taken over by our septic system this would be a complicated task. The rest of our land plunges downhill and is filled with deep shade, which would turn the project into a task requiring hefty men sporting red checked jackets and wielding chain saws.

While the trees aren’t particularly old, there are a lot of them and I’d be eliminating one of the factors that drew us here in the first place.

Just thinking about it leaves me a bit hot and bothered.

I think I’ll go take a shower.