The first summer we lived here our well went dry. Drought – we had no idea water conservation was a thing you should do when you live in the country and rely on that covered pit beside the house for showers, tea, steamed broccoli, and…did I mention showers?
For a week it was touch and go. I brought dirty clothes to the laundromat. We ate prepared food fresh from the grocery store. We showered at M’s office. We survived well and learned to accept the smell of a house frozen in the driest heat of summer. But still – when a tropical storm hit land hundreds of miles south of us and sent torrential rains that nearly made us google plans for an ark – except at that point I think we were using yahoo – we celebrated. And then we stayed up late digging trenches in an effort to save our basement the hassle of too much water. It rained for days and the rivers rose and the well was full.
This month we are again treated to water, water, water falling in a steady stream. The horses are soggy. The spring flowers are flattened. Our new mudroom is living up to its name because little boys love puddles and take every chance to try out their boots. We’ve been warned of excessive dryness this season and I was worried about our well again, but the rain gods are speaking up. “Not on my watch,” they mutter as they tip their buckets onto our waiting heads. We look up, and drink.