Macro Monday: Water...at last!

While the rest of the U.S. has been enduring an unusual winter, we've actually been back to what we consider normal--a couple of days of gentle rains in the 40's followed by a sunny day in the 60's but freezing at night, then the cycle repeats.

Yesterday it felt like the first day of spring! Farmer Rick and I spent the day gardening in t-shirts! The asparagus also thinks it is spring. They are predicting 2 inches of snow tomorrow. That's just how weird our weather can be.

But the most amazing news I want to share is our well is now topping off at 5'9" of WATER which means: I am now able to once again run the washing machine and dishwasher! I have not been able to do this in NINE MONTHS. If you are new to my blog, we have just endured the driest, hottest year on record and our well was entirely without water for four months, and has been limping along ever since. I will never take turning on the faucet and water coming out for granted. If you want to see what it looked like empty check out this post

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Here's some highly aerated water down at the river, and a couple of riffles.

 

 

Suddenly it comes back to me why I live here!

Just listen to the river sing:

For more up close images, visit Macro Monday!

Out with the Old

2009 was a frustrating and sad year for so many people, I know many of us are happy to see it in the rear view mirror, a disappearing speck on the horizon. Authorities have it that we should all study history, lest we become doomed to repeat it, so before ushering in the New, I am taking a parting glimpse at the Old.

Spring was lost to illness from taking rabies shots. Nearly a year later, and after a recent subrogation interview assuring Blue Cross I did not ask the fox for his insurance card, they have decided to cover little more than half of the exorbitant cost of the vaccines for something known to be 100% fatal. We send them hundreds of dollars each month for "health insurance".  A perfect example of a failed health care system.

Lesson learned: Always carry gloves. Note to self: Contact the Texas Board of Insurance.

Summer broke all records for drought and heat and saw both the river and our well run dry. This took its toll on us psychologically--the lack of something so precious we had not even realized we'd taken for granted--and physically--from hauling tons of water, 5 gallon 40 lb buckets at a time.

Lesson learned: Never take any of life's conveniences for granted and be prepared to live without them. Ditch your old toilet--a low flush toilet not only helps save the planet, a 10 lb flush vs a 40 lb flush will also save your back. Note to self: Start planning a rainwater harvesting system.

Fall and winter brought the general downfall of the plumbing infrastructure of our 80 year old house and loss of many beloved pets. Nothing like living in a paradox where you have very little water, but what there is seems to be leaking all over the place. We said farewell to Hawk Girl, Rooster-O, Phoebe, Avo from a tragedy that could have been averted had I only listened to that little voice, Zoe, and even the tenacious Captain Ahab our special needs RIR rooster 'added for warmth' with a broken leg from the hatchery, who mysteriously passed this New Year's Eve.

Lesson learned: Always, always listen to your intuition. Note to self: House wiring is just as old. Best time to replace is before the fire.

Hoping everyone had a safe and fun New Year's Eve. Wishing everyone a fabulous 2010!

Where's My Kayak?

Today we finally got a big storm. Real rain. As in over 5 inches! Everything just let out a big sigh of relief. The dry creek ran. Cracked soil expanded, trying to confiscate my sandals as I rushed around checking on the animals.

We'd gotten 3/8 of an inch last night, so this new amount is causing some flooding! Not enough to worry about yet, although Phoebe and Finley were not amused standing in their sheep "pond" this morning. Also, rain blew into the new coop from the unfinished overhang creating a small playa lake in the middle of the pine shavings. The chickens were all standing around looking at it while King Avelino tested the water with a foot and complained loudly.

It's temporarily brought the river back up to something worth kayaking--from near 0 to 260 cfs. Our dry well, however, has yet to see any results. There's more rain in the forecast for tonight and the rest of the week, so we can hope!

Back to the Basics

Since the wet wipes method of body hygiene really wasn't cutting it, I detoured Farmer Rick off of coop building this week to construct an outdoor shower. I've seen them in magazines like House Beautiful set in lush gardens and thought it would be nice to have one. But then, that's different than actually needing one!

You can see the dirt where our lawn has bit the dust. The view to the fence is the same from the open side of the shower. Fortunately it's wooded, and we also own the land on the other side of the fence. The shower base is made from a wooden pallet set into a gravel box. A foundation block was placed in each corner to hold the structure.

Except for the plumbing hardware, the shower was almost entirely built with recycled materials. It's enclosed on three sides by heavy canvas curtains that came with the house. They were so heavy they were pulling the circular shower rod down that I replaced them with lighter ones and stored them for 9 years. See...I just knew they'd come in handy someday! (In the background, that's the gazebo that came with the house that we turned into a greenhouse last year).

Here's a curtain rod detail...

a corner detail...

and the plumbing hardware detail.

Here's what it looks like on the inside. I see some dirt has already been tracked inside, but guess what? I don't care, ha ha!

And finally, the neighbor's garden hose that's keeping us watered. I'd like to get a little shelf inside for the shampoo and soap, and will look for some neat driftwood down in the creek for towel hooks. Maybe we can talk landscaping--after a rainy year or a new well, whichever comes first.

Water Canto

Dear Saint Isadore the Farmer
I don't believe we've met, seeing as how I'm not in your flock
but farmers are a family of sorts, so I thought you might
understand our predicament

The neighbor's new, deep well has so much pressure it keeps bursting hoses--theirs and ours. Farmer Rick repaired ours late the other night and connected it to the pumpkin patch--which we located at the furthest reaches of our property as recommended by permacultural practices, with the assumption they need little tending--HA!

Emily Dickinson said water is taught by thirst
yet our parched land can't seem to command the clouds
and our well is bone dry--nothing down there
but echoes of better times

After adjusting all the spray emitters to the new pressure, I got back to the source and discovered a huge loss of water at the repair site. One inquisitive touch sent parts flying and a geyser of water up my nose, drenching me before I could reach the lever to turn it off. Then, it was off to the tool shed to repair it again.

I thought I'd start with you--
kind to animals, patron saint of farmers and rural communities
--because I like the looks a saint with a shovel
and water springing forth

After completing the mend I had to walk back over to the pumpkin patch and reset all the emitters to yet another pressure. By now the 103 degree temperature has rendered the water in the black irrigation hoses to scalding. It's burning my hands and probably not making the plants too happy to have their thirst answered like this. I feel awful about it, but what can I do?

D.H. Lawrence said water is H2O,
hydrogen two parts, oxygen one, but there is also a third thing,
that makes water and nobody knows what that is
(I believe God knows)

Because of the mineral content that clogs the emitters, each one has to first be turned on full blast to clear the holes, then turned down to reach only the plant roots, no more. But the last one scalds my hand and I inadvertently let go, blowing the emitter cap to the heavens or at least into the surrounding grass where I cannot find it. There is now another geyser and I scramble to turn off that lever.

Who made it follow the path
of least resistance, yet strong enough to carve a canyon
there is a lesson in there somewhere for us
if we would stop to ponder

I go in search of our stash of irrigation parts and do not have another. The nearest one is a three hour round trip away. I apologize to the pumpkins for our lack of preparedness. It is now noon, and I have spent the better half of a day spraying myself in the face while my vegetables are wilting.

Loren Eiseley said if there is magic on this planet,
it is contained in water, but I think it is spirit he's talking about
like the angel of the flower contained in each seed
that brings forth the fruit

I spend another half a day getting the parts, and a few extra. Now a pond from the back pressure begins to form in the neighbors yard where the spigot lives, where this kind gift of water originates from, where their daughter is getting married this weekend. We decide a solution is perhaps to turn down the pressure on her side and up the pressure on my side. This means going back to the pumpkin patch and readjusting all the emitters. It is 104 degrees outside, the water much hotter. Both the plants and I groan accepting the only water we have.

Your prayer is for all Creation
--the fields, the plants, living water, fresh air, all creatures,
love for one another--this has been my prayer, too
we both know the worth of water

If there ever was a time Farmer Rick wanted to talk me in to relocating to a cooler climate, like the one he grew up in, this would be it. I'm frustrated and exhausted, and I can't even find the towel to throw it in. I'm hot, thirsty, sweaty and a magnet for west Texas dirt. I'd like to cry but I don't think I'm hydrated enough to make the tears.

So, I'm throwing some dirt in the well
tierra bendita that came from the Santuario de Chimayo a place of miracles
asking for clouds and rain to keep our well replenished
and our souls succulent

The well service calls to say, no, they can't deepen a hand dug well. Just to get the rig out to dig another shallow well is $4,500, but eight others already called before me and there's no guarantee in this alluvial gravel. All the new wells drilled around us are at 800 feet or $15,000 dollars deep.

And if your compassion can be so moved, Saint Isador the Farmer,
for our fields, plants, and creatures, to drive your spade
we'd be very thankful for the water!

When the Well Runs Dry

So many of you have kindly sent condolences over our situation here--thanks. I will never take running water for granted ever again!

This is the Frio River--or what's left of it--and I'm standing on both banks. Farmer Rick and I were mystified last weekend when a commercial river shuttle dropped off two tubers that looked to be in their 70's at our crossing. I hope someone told them it would be a long, hot, rocky walk back to their car toting those inner tubes!

Compare this with last summer's shot of the same river. When a river gets shallow and warm, fish die, algae grows, bacteria breeds.

Here's a rare glimpse into our dry well, which is basically empty save for a couple of gallons in the bottom. Many of you out in blogland may not even know where your water comes from--you just pay the city each month and it miraculously comes out of your tap when you turn it on.

Some of you may have your own well that's just a teeny pipe that encases a hole bore through hundreds of feet of earth like an iron straw sucking at the water table. If your pump went out you could get one of those old-fashioned hand pumps to draw the water up.

We have a shallow well that was hand dug through limestone by a pioneer pick axe in the 1860's, later encased with concrete. Where that ends there is a dark emptiness--a narrow horizontal cavern--where the water usually flows just like the nearby river it undoubtedly feeds. You see, an aquifer is like a large rock sponge. Some of the holes are as small as your pinkie, and some of them are underground lakes you could swim in.

The hole below the cavern is where the water is usually stored when the spring is flowing. The pioneers would have hauled it up with buckets and ropes over a wood beam, wishing well style. Assuming your bucket held a gallon, that's 8 pounds to haul up and carry to wherever you needed it. At some point the submersible pump was invented and that's what you see going down on the left side. It has to be submersed to run. We've turned ours off.

Think about all the ways we Americans use water: flushing toilets, cleaning house, bathing, cooking, household drinking, washing dishes, doing laundry, washing cars, keeping lawns, gardens, animals alive, recreation if you own a pool. How much would you use if you had to pull every bucket up yourself? What would you do if suddenly you had none?

We are bathing with wet wipes. Since I work from home, I wash my hair only when I know I'm going to be seen, about once a week. We drink and cook from bottled water. Fortunately we have a lot of dishes and clothes. I may soon have to drive to another town to use a laundromat and resort to paper plates. That little puddle is managing to keep our animals watered--so far. We can only hope for rain.

I've begun to realize Life, as we've known it, is pretty luxurious compared to what the pioneers must have experienced. I think about all the people today in third world countries who live on about 3 gallons of water--or less--per person per day and that water might even be as skanky as what's in our river right now.

So, the next time you turn on your faucet be conservative with your use, and remember to be thankful!