It was a dark and stormy night. No, really. Actually, there have been several ‘dark and stormy nights.’
And cold; actually had to put on a fire in the boiler a couple of times. And rain, lots and lots of rain.
That Johnny Cash country song kept bouncing through my noggin: “How high’s the water, Mama? Five feet high and rising.”
Oh, there was one afternoon, Saturday, I believe, when we had sun even though it often was hidden by racing clouds.
Good thing too, since we had quite a few folk who were willing to make the drive to our farm for a trail ride.
Fortunately, it did not rain. Not like Friday when on and on it poured.
Friday Laura called the prospective riders to ask if they were serious about driving all the way from town to possibly ride in the rain. They were.
Laura took them on our trails and they all got wet. Apparently they loved it.
When Laura returned to a warm and cozy Casa Jones, I asked about the ride and the condition of the trails.
“Wet, slippery in some places but negotiable,” she answered.
“Any trees blown down across the trails?” I continued.
“Not so far.”
Good. I can usually count on some trees ripped from their moorings or broken by the strong winds.
When that happens, off I go on the quad with my trusty chainsaw to liberate the trail from the obstacles.
Even with the cool temperatures, the winds and the wet, Laura wanted me to get the swimming pool ready.
“Last year we had a week of plus 25 temperatures with no pool in which to cool off. This year I want us to be ready,” she exclaimed.
I looked outside. The sky was dark; the wind was whipping bushes and trees; but, at least it wasn’t raining.
So out I went after gathering all of the hoses, the pool pump, the solar heating panels, the start-up kit of chemicals, and tools for tightening everything once all of the hoses were attached.
It took me about half-an-hour to remember what I was supposed to do and get it right.
Only had to re-attach hose ends of what I call the octopus twice. The octopus is a creature into which and out of which four hoses join to allow the pool water to come from the filter, into the heating panels, and back to the pool.
There is a switch that allows one to by-pass the panels when one is flushing the system especially if one discovers that the pool bottom is covered in green algae that one was not able to eliminate (constant on-going battle for this one) at the end of last summer.
One has a lot of work to do to get said pool ready. Certainly didn’t have to add much water with all that rain.
One also hopes, as do we all, that warm sun will appear, hopefully before the Solstice, to heat the pool water to a temperature conducive to relaxing, at least until one’s son elects to cannonball one.
All the rain has created lots of puddles where one didn’t expect them before.
In fact, each of the horse paddocks has a low spot where small lakes have suddenly appeared.
This watery creation has never occurred in all of the years we’ve had horses.
To paraphrase Johnny Cash’s song: I guess we’ve been blessed with a little more rain than normal.
I’ve named each of the paddock lakes, temporary though they be.
There’s George Lake, Lazer Lake, Squiggle’s Lake, etc. Existing puddles along the drive have expanded and even united to form larger watery depressions; and the runoff riverlets caused by snow melt are now deep channels cut into the drive.
Ah, but this too shall pass. There will be sun and warmth - eventually.
Certainly (as all of my neighbours keep reminding me) we won’t have to worry about our wells or, for that matter, the tinder dry conditions our neighbours in Northeastern Ontario are unfortunately experiencing that have caused very serious forest fires, touch wood.
The well is full; the ponds have runoff; and the garden is thoroughly saturated and needs time to dry a bit before we can continue planting.
Laura got most of the potatoes planted.
We’re just praying they don’t rot in the ground.
And to think that I was worried about a drought.
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