This morning I bounced back and forth between working at my desk and helping Paul work on the new chicken run for the hen house. While I was outside, I turned on the soaker hose in greenhouse. Unfortunately, I forgot about it until Paul came in for lunch and said there was no water.
Of course, I immediately new what had happened and did the 50 yard dash to the greenhouse. My plants weren’t swimming, but you could see where water had been literally running out of the greenhouse. At that point, I didn’t know if I’d run the well dry, burned up the well pump, or what. Heartsick, I did what any smart woman does – retail therapy to keep my mind off my worries so I wouldn’t obsess over the issue. Ask Paul – he understands all about my obsessions – things I simply can’t stop worrying over until the problem is solved.
The happy news is that when we returned home tonight, we had water! The bad news is that it’s beige and grainy. Yes, I definitely ran the well dry, but the pump lives on. Thank goodness! Time will take care of the yucky water. In the meantime, no washing whites!
Sadly, this is not the first time I’ve run the well too low. Our second summer here, Hannah had just finished kindergarten. I thought a swimming pool would be a good summer diversion. Paul was on the road so I went ahead and purchased one of those 3′ or 4′ tall soft sided pools – the type with the inflatable edge. I prepared a spot behind the house and started filling it with the garden hose. To my dismay, the water began to turn beige. Our well is close to 400′ deep, but it’s slow to refill. Not having had well water before, this was definitely a rude introduction to county life.
Not to be defeated, I learned that the local fire department fills pools for a donation. I gave them $100 for their effort. Although we were excited, we didn’t use the pool the first day – it was entirely too cold. Along about 1 am, sleeping with the windows open, I woke to a loud swoosh and then a trickle. I laid there, a bit befuddled until I understood what I’d heard. I ran to the back door, and sure enough the back yard was flooded and the pool was limp and empty. Gravity and uneven ground had worked against me. When Paul returned the next weekend, he leveled the ground, reset the pool, and the fire department got another donation from me. I think Hannah swam in that pool all of a half dozen times that summer because she didn’t like the dragon flies the pool attracted.
All’s well that ends well, right?