Water closet chronicle

The property on Fort Peck Lake that my wife and I bought last year included a cabin, a dock and assorted outbuildings. Foremost among them is an outhouse.

It’s grandfathered into the covenants. I can’t move it or tear it down and rebuild it, but I can sure use it.

I’ve always enjoyed the outhouse experience and it certainly beats leaning up against a tree.

There’s a one-holer up on the border at an old homestead I visit a few times every fall. It’s miles from anywhere, yet offers a civilized sit-down to the needy passerby. There’s always toilet paper hidden inside under an empty coffee can. I...