The Search That Only Worked in California

When we closed on the property in April 2023, there were no buildings on the property.  The drive to and from our home was over an hour.  And yes, while we were a short drive to the local town, it was not convenient to run there every time we needed a bathroom break.  Further, my husband has a genetic disorder and it’s most helpful to have a restroom nearby.  Hanging our rear ends over the back of a log a few times a day was neither comfortable nor practical.  

In December 2023 I started imagining an outhouse for the farm.  I knew what I wanted.  It wasn’t someone else’s used and discarded outhouse or something from an estate sale. It wasn’t a plastic “Andy Gump” full of toxic chemicals.  From the very beginning, we had a vision:  everything on the property should look like it belonged there, like it had always been there.  Outhouses existed on farms for centuries.  And it didn’t require chemicals or plastic.  When you see how they operate, they are actually healthy.  So even this little tiny building had to support that vision. 

Then I decided I’d rather have one made.  Hours on end searching online (think Craigslist, eBay, local newspapers, etc.) had very little results.  Searching over and again for someone local, but couldn’t seem to find anyone.  It is not in me to give up.  I knew it had to be out there.  And as silly as it sounded, being able to surprise my husband with an outhouse was supremely important.  I mean really, who thinks that’s a great idea?  It supported the vision of the property from an overall perspective and was insanely practical.  No more wandering around looking for a proper fallen tree.

In Spring 2024, I was visiting my mom in California.  One night I started searching again, using the very same search terms that I had used from Connecticut.  ISPs and algorithms are funny.  I was finally able to find one of the only two privy builders in the country… in Colchester, CT, less than two hours away from our farm.  

A few emails later and I had an in-person appointment with Georg Papp Sr. of Bull Hill Workshop (www.bullhillworkshop.com).  I drove out to meet him with all of my questions and ideas.  Georg is a gentle man with kind eyes.  We sat in his kitchen, at the small metal table on chairs that had seen years of meals with his wife.  She had since passed after battling ovarian cancer; he shared preventative information with me as I suspected he did with most people he met.  

I also got a history lesson on privvies…  Why there are half moons on the doors, family sized outhouses with different seats for parents and kids, natural additives.  My favorite is:  You’ve heard of number one and number two, but do you know what number three is?   

We drank coffee strong enough to put hair on your chest.  We ate madeleine cookies that he made from scratch.  We talked for almost two hours about my crazy plan, the why, the where.  He wrote everything down in his small notebook.  I showed him the notes in mine.  He asked me questions about what I wanted:  how many holes, how big, other special things like hooks and shelves and such.  I told him I wanted to surprise my husband with this, so we had to decide how to get him materials and how to deliver it.  While he hadn’t worked with larchwood or metal roofs before, he agreed to take on the project.

However, I had to get the contact information for the lumber guy.  Because we had planned to build the structures on the farm in larchwood, my husband had already purchased a standing larch forest in Pennsylvania.  He then engaged an Amish sawmill in New York to process all of the lumber (dimensional lumber at that!).  One day, I told my husband I needed the contact information for Thomas George, the lumber guy,  just to update my records.  Thomas was the go-between with the Amish team and the public.  Like some of the other folks who have been involved in this project, my husband found Thomas on Craigslist.  He had already delivered some lumber to the farm, but I hadn’t met him yet.  I then called Thomas, introduced myself, and told him of my plans. The two men connected, shared the needs and schedule, and the lumber was delivered to Georg’s shop at his home in Colchester.  

Further, the plan was to have future buildings on the property topped with metal roofs in gallery blue.  Naturally, the outhouse had to match.  While I secured the supplier, Georg took care of picking up the material to finish off the privy.

When the outhouse was finished, we had to figure out how to get it to the farm to surprise my husband.  Georg was able to get a friend of his with a trailer to get it to the farm. Somehow I managed to coordinate being there at the same time with my husband.  

Georg got there about ten minutes ahead of the delivery truck.  I was chatting with him at the end of the driveway and my husband came down to meet this stranger.  Georg was quick on his feet and spun a story of an old television show that went around and surprised deserving people with gifts. He told my husband that he was identified as a worthy recipient for an outhouse.  My husband said he would love to buy one, but didn’t think he deserved getting one as a gift.  

Shortly thereafter, the outhouse arrived, being pulled on a trailer by a pick up truck.  My husband still wasn’t caught up on everything.  But finally, the whole thing came together…  Georg said I had contacted him to commission this outhouse, contacting Thomas for the larchwood and securing the roof materials also.  

When my husband finally realized what took place, his response was priceless.  He looked at Georg.  He looked at me.  And back and forth a few times.  I told him the story about how I contacted Georg to commission the outhouse, Thomas for the larchwood, coordinating all of the other little details (you should see the light pull in the form of a bear sitting in an easy chair).   “You did what???”  He remembered when I asked for Thomas’ contact information.  He was laughing and smiling in amazement.  If you ask my children one word to describe me, they’ll tell you “magical.”  When that outhouse arrived at the farm, seeing my husband’s reaction, that is how I felt:  magical.  

This was built to fit the vision of what we had been looking at, drawing out, planning for the other buildings on the farm.  As a wife, I was able to reflect back to my husband everything he imagined for the farm in a little building that takes up less than 20 square feet.  And being able to show my husband that I love him goes above and beyond just saying it.  

Looking at it now, I smile at the fact that the very first building on Pasture Prime Acres wasn't the cabin or the barndominium.

It was an outhouse.

Somehow that feels exactly right.

Best.  Gift.  Ever.