Here’s a topic that I’ve never seen covered.
Anywhere.
When I am deep in the garden, far from indoor plumbing, I sometimes squat and relieve myself. I know I am not alone. Well, I’m alone when I’m peeing, but come on, you’ve never done this?
This habit began 35 years ago when every hungry critter bellied up to my first vegetable garden in rural Minnesota, despite a fence. When I told my troubles to a nearby farmer he said, “No animal will cross your scent.” He recommended I relieve myself around the perimeter of our garden. But I had a large garden and a small bladder. No problem, Folgers to the rescue — “good to the last drop.”
So I hoarded Folgers’s coffee cans, and I filled them. But it took a long time to fill a few cans, so I enlisted my husband’s help. He needed no coffee can, but I offered him the luxury of his own, since sometimes the local traffic made him a bit shy.
Here’s the thing: It didn’t stop a single critter. But it probably extended the life of our septic system.
And here’s proof that I’m not alone.
Years ago the BBC News reported that a National Trust property in Cambridgeshire was urging people to relieve themselves outdoors to help their gardens grow greener. It turns out the composting process is activated by pee. The head gardener said, “By the end of the year 10 men, from the 70 on the gardening team, will have made 1,000 trips to the pee bale, saving up to 30 percent of our daily water use by not having to flush the loo so many times.” He added, “It’s totally safe, and a bit of fun too.”
You can’t make this stuff up.
That reminds me of a talented high school friend. She could pee in a Coke bottle. How I admired her aim. This was the stuff our friendship was built on. She had brothers too, but none with aim like hers. She really got all the talent in the family.
She was so unlike my three young stepsons.
I used to examine their leg length while they slept; convinced they’d been born with congenitally shorter left legs, since they pulled to the left whenever they peed.
When my second husband and I first met and traveled the back roads throughout New England, he was surprised that I preferred a cornfield to a public restroom.
“God only knows what you’ll pick up in a public restroom,” I told him. “If you go in a cornfield, what’s the worse you’ll get? Root rot? I’ll take good clean dirt over man-made germs any day,” I said as I strode into a cornfield.
Now when we travel a familiar route we stop at my favorite pee spots. I even rate them. To earn five stars, the spot must meet five demanding criteria: close to a main road, low shrubbery for privacy, no poison ivy, a slight slope — for maximum drainage. Oh, and a view. One longs to see beauty when one relieves oneself, doesn’t one? Well, this one does.
I relish the hunt for five-star places. I’ll keep you posted as I add new spots.