Say, while touring in Nova Scotia around Labor Day this year, I paused in
a gift shop in the Cape Breton Highlands nat.park to look over a calendar
which was of nothing but outhouses.  Outhouses in lightning storms, in
precarious situations, in quaint little villages.  The reason why this
particular calendar had found its way into the gift shop was beyond me,
aside from the reason why the calendar got published in the first place.
Anyway, it seems that the calendar was the product of one man's labor of
love-- taking pictures of this vanishing breed before they were all
flushed away.  Go figure.

We also saw bunnies playing golf, and a scarecrow museum, but those are
other stories.