A bit about Mud Wasps, Outhouses, and Eggs

My sisters and I spent summers in the country, bare chested and bare footed, among towering trees, wild grapes, and lots of room for our very young selves to roam. Our grandparents had built a complex of rough recycled barnwood buildings, decorated with wavy blue trim and quite cozy. They resided in the main cabin (special because it had kerosene lamps, and the wood stoves) and a row of storage sheds capped at one end by a cabin had built-in bunk beds for the kids. Highlights included outdoor baths in the big zinc covered steel tub, neighbors bringing us baskets of still hot tomatoes, which we ate with such relish the juice ran down our chests to our shorts, science lessons we'd get whenever an injured or dead beast was found on the property, the celebrity we enjoyed with inevitable black and blue toe stubbings, and the promise of a comforting hug if we dodged our way to the main cabin through a particularly scary thunderstorm.

Few ammenities were provided though none of us felt the burden of it really. Our playground was vast and wild, and we were wonderfully scared at the prospect of a late night trek down to the outhouse flashlight in hand, waving it back and forth across the path to fend off Indians or foxes or wayward criminals which we were certain lay in wait along the path or down inside the outhouse itself.

The outhouse was far less ominous during the day. Mud wasps could be watched during our visits, making their row homes steadily each day all summer long. I'd sit there watching them spit out their mouthfulls onto the painted wood slats, just inches away from the budget toilet paper and the heavily pine oil scented block hanging nearby. The passing of summer could be measured by the size of their complexes.

Early mornings were measured by the amount of dew on the spider webs that tented the leaves on the ground. Still silver meant that one might have a chance at finding my grandmother at the potbelly stove for a fried egg in the small yellow enamel fry pan. It would have been a special treat, joining her privately like that, and worth waking early for.