A Walk to the Well
Just in time for Thanksgiving: we have no water. This discovery greeted us when we arrived home last night.Today at dawn Monte and I went outside and checked the waterline from one end of the parcel to the other. We examined pumps and filters, hiked up to the storage tanks, and walked to the well. The well is about a quarter of a mile from the house along a narrow trail through the oaks. In the early morning light, it was lovely. But the source of the problem remains a mystery as I write. The heroic and ingenious Monte is still out there exploring all the variables.
In the meantime, even with bottled water on hand, we keep discovering anew the little nuisances this implies: no showers or flushing, for example. It’s compounded by the fact that we have a dinner planned for eight people this evening, a most unusual event, and my sister is visiting from out of town and staying for two nights, even more unusual. As for me, I'm sitting here in sweat pants and a knit cap, looking very much the bag lady, and feeling oddly disoriented. Maybe it's the water problem, maybe just a shortage of sleep, but I'm not quite sure what to do at this moment. Miranda, who is spending a solo Thanksgiving in Boston, suggests a cup of tea. If not the solution, this is at least a lull-filler, a salve, and a manageable course of action. I carefully pour a bit of distilled water from our emergency jug, wait for the kettle to whistle, and feel briefly purposeful.The irony of this situation is not lost on me. Wasn’t I just talking about gratitude? Isn’t this the perfect moment to contemplate all the things we take for granted? And wasn’t I fully expecting to twist a tap and receive all the running water I wanted without even wondering at the miracle of it? In fact, I’d been reading recently about women in Africa who walk miles to fetch water from unsanitary waterholes, often waiting hours to fill their containers, then carrying the heavy loads back on their heads, sometimes returning for a second trip in the course of a day, racking up to ten or twenty miles daily.Which leads me to see today's inconveniences as merely reminders of how lucky my life is, and they amplify my gratitude.
Which isn’t to say I’m not whining a bit.
But that's Ranch life for you. It's beautiful, yes, but just inconvenient enough to keep you humble. Nothing is flat, nothing is easy. If it isn't blowing, it's raining too hard, and if it isn't raining, it's frighteningly dry. There are mice in our cars and bats in the doorway, and if it isn't the fence in need of mending, it's the batteries for the solar power system that seem to be malfunctioning, or a window that's leaking, or something gone awry with the pump.And we love it -- don't we?
Maybe a walk to the well is the ideal way to start Thanksgiving day.