Look at this pretty man bathing in the nice water. Can you smell the soap? Can you hear him singing the Three Dog Night song? “Wash away my troubles, wash away my pain, wash away my sorrow, wash away my shame.”
We’ve installed a new outdoor shower here at Little Laurentide. After slaving in the garden, it is beyond description to stand on the flagstone in bare feet and watch the mud rinse away. Such a simple gadget — iron tubes, brass nozzle and spigot, stainless steel stake, and a garden hose that connects to the warm water faucet in the basement. In the spring and fall, the whole contraption easily converts to a boot wash. In the winter, we will plug the hole in the basement and unscrew the hose.
Of course, my little DIY project wouldn’t merit a blog post if something wasn’t awry. Let me just say that the pretty man in the photo, who is my son, has some “issues.”
Me: I’m blogging about the argument we had about the outdoor shower.
Walter: That’s gonna be boring.
Me: People like reading about family strife. It’s a pandemic. Everyone is co-habitating and getting on each other’s nerves. Besides, people can relate to my mistakes.
Walter: Yeah, the whole placement fiasco. You ignored my warnings about slope and terrain. You didn’t think that four gallons per minute of water flowing towards the foundation would be an issue.
Me: Sorry! I’m still getting used to you being a competent adult.
Walter: I’m 27.
Me: When you’re 28, I will believe everything you say the first time.
Walter: Like that the outdoor shower needs walls.
Me: You mean a shower curtain? That would look awful.
Walter: I mean sides. I mean it needs to be private.
Me: Good Lord, we’ve swapped roles. You’re the hippy! You like all sorts of freedom. You’ve been shirtless since April.
Walter: There’s a difference between bathing naked in a hot spring where it’s expected. Free spiritedness doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate privacy. People sing in the shower. You can unabashedly pluck any hair. There’s no judgment in the shower. I would think you of all people …
Me: Honey, I don’t know what happened, but I don’t care. Why do you care? It’s a farm. No one’s around. This is supposed to be a quick rinse-off. It’s a cheap swimming pool. It’s not for luxuriating. Just send me and your father a text that you’re taking a shower. We will avert our eyes.
Walter: You never read your texts! And Dona says as soon as I get in, someone’s gonna drive up the driveway.
Me: Dona’s right. But your father says he angles the shower head to the left so the elderberries hide his elder berries. You just need to fiddle with it.
Walter: What about the guy in his bi-plane who keeps flying over the property?
Me: A cheek peek from 1000 feet? Who cares!
Walls or not, Walter will tell you that on a warm summer night, stars blinking downward, steam rising upward, this little shower feels like the rain in Shambala. And if you want to drop in on us in Shambala, and it’s over 70 degrees, maybe give a little toot of the horn as you pull in?
To listen to Three Dog Night sing that oldie, click here. For more information on the shower, click here. It was made by a design firm called Tradewinds, located in Belgium where perhaps people are not quite as uptight about a little bit of nudity.
