The pump

We have two water tanks, and hence, two water pumps.  One tank is up at the house, while the other is at the big shed.  The water pump at the big shed was originally at the house.  However, soon after moving in, we bought a new tank, installed it behind the shed, and the house water pump got relegated there, while we bought a new pump for the house.

So the pump at the shed has been reliably pumping water for goodness knows how long.  When you spend time at the big shed, you can hear it's whirr and whistle as it periodically turns itself on to re-pressurise.  Of course, you can hear it when you turn on the tap too.  It grinds along, while the water comes out of the tap with as much pressure as you want.

The other day I turned on the tap, and watched as the water poured slowly into my bucket.  There was an eerie silence.  The pump had gone.  The whirr and whistle no longer accompanied the flowing water, and there was no pressure to speak of.  It was a bit like the absence of a good friend, who always talks a little bit too much.

When I told my husband about the broken pump, he gazed at me and asked "Do I need to fix it today?".  Well, the water still pours out of the taps albeit slower, but it's far more than a trickle, so I figured there was no hurry.  But I am hoping that it will be replaced by Christmas.

Kids and puddles

There is something about puddles that makes them absolutely irresistible to kids.  Even if it's just wading through them in your gumboots to see how deep they are.

 But even better if you can take your schleich horses along for a bit of a wade!

Thowra and the foal were also lucky enough to snack on an apple.

While Boon Boon chose to go for a drink.

Saving the tank

A year ago, or was it two?, our water tank cracked irreperably. So we had a special liner put inside the concrete tank, and all was well. Until it rained. Too much.

The leaves got washed out of the gutters, and into the tank, and they blocked the outlet pipe. And the tank kept filling up, and filling up, until it was 10% over the full mark. And then of course, it was over the liner. The water flowed between the liner and the concrete tank, and all of a sudden we had odd syphons of water coming out of the base of the concrete tank. What we didn't know, was whether we had damaged the liner or not.

Of course we unblocked the outlet pipe, but the water just wasn't draining fast enough. So how can you turn a miserable situation like this into a winner?

Well, after many years of drought, I just had the longest shower I can ever remember. Follwed by the fullest bath I have ever had in my entire life. Simply heaven.

And it looks like the tank and the liner are all fine. Phew!

Fathers' Day, take two

It appears the drought is over. It's raining, raining, raining. The rivers are swelling, and paddlers of all ages and dimensions are dusting off their paddles, checking that they still fit their decks, and almost causing a network crash with their emails, messages and phone calls. Which river? What day? How many runs?

Pete has decided to do the King with his friends. A wonderful river, that at the promised level is well worth the drive. The aim was to do it today. On Fathers' Day. So of course we shifted Fathers' day and celebrated it yesterday. He got the works - lovely breakfast, present, cards, lunch at the cafe, great dinner, and of course his little girl showering him with love all day long. (Ok, maybe that wore thin eventually.)

Then, yesterday evening, he got a phone call. Trip is rained out. What do you mean rained out? Kayaking trips don't get rained out. The more water the better. Nah ... rained out. Can't get there - all the access roads to all the rivers are flooded! I have never ever heard of a paddling trip getting rained out. I mean, that's the whole idea. When the rest of your life gets rained out, that's when you go paddling. Up till now.

So this morning, Pete got up and we celebrated the whole Fathers' day all over again. Was he just lucky, or clever?

Water

As part of our spiritual retreat we watch DVDs. Yes DVDs. Carefully selected DVDs. Tonight we watched a DVD on water.

Have you ever wondered why water in its solid state (ice) floats in its liquid state? This doesn't follow the laws of physics of any other compound.

There are a bunch of scientists that have been puzzled by this property of water, and so, they have been studying it. This is what they have discovered, in a nutshell.

Water has a memory. If you treat it with love and gratitude it will heal you. If you treat it with anger and rage it will do you no good. Holy water is holy. It has properties that can heal you.

Water likes to flow, via gentle curves and over sloping ground, and in nature. When water pours out of your home tap it has been chemically treated, it has gone via a series of long pipes, it has been pumped under high pressure, it has flowed via right angle turns. That water feels hated. It has the memory of hate. If you drink that water it will have a draining effect on you.

The good news is, that all you need to do is bless your water with the words "Love and Gratitude" before you drink it.

For those who are interested, I am hoping to be able to host a showing of this DVD at my house, at some stage soonish.

The Deluge

Sabina and I are at the Warragul show today, showing off Sabina's pony Tornado. Showing is taxing, and between classes we sneak away and have a ride.

Pete is cycling from Melbourne to the farm, as part of his training for the Baw Baw classic.

He calls me on the phone. "I am just outside of Pakenham, and there is a massive black cloud chasing me. It doesn't look pretty. You may need to pick me up, I'll call you again."

Pick him up??! Sabina, float, pony, and he wants me to pick him up? Sheesh.

We wait around for almost an hour, but then the rain drops start falling. Big, heavy rain drops. I bundle Sabina in the car, pony on the float, and we head off.

The rain starts coming down in merciless sheets as we drive. Then it eases off. The phone rings. It's Pete. Come and pick him up from Robin Hood Hotel. Fabulous. I U-turn.

The wind is strong, and with some trepidation I watch the tops of the trees get blown about. I pray with all my might, that a branch doesn't drop on us. With car and float, we make a pretty unmissable target.

Then, in Drouin West, just as we pass the Primary School and the CFA, the deluge commences. Initially we get sheets of rain, just like before, Then it gets stronger, and heavier. A few cars pull off. I understand that according to the laws of probability we are safer moving, and so I drive on, albeit slowly.

I can barely see the road in front of me. Then the rain gets heavier still, and I can no longer see the end of my own bonnet. My entire focus is on that one point where the rain meets the front of my car. It amazes me that a year and one month ago, this area was ungulfed in flames.

Eventually the rain eases off somewhat, and I can start seeing some of the road again. Just in time, as a big puddle looms in front of us. Hydroplaning over it with a float is not my idea of fun. Luckily, I know this road like the back of my hand, and I can judge the depth of this puddle to the centimetre.

We arrive at the Robin Hood Hotel. The wind still howling, the rain still pouring. But we are away from trees and flying branches. I breathe a sigh of relief and sit back in my seat. "Mama", Sabina perks up in the back seat. "You know how you always tell me to be quiet when the weather is on the radio?" I nod. "Well, Mama, did they tell you about this?!" she asks. I laugh. "No, Sabina, they didn't. They just said a couple of passing showers."

We see Peter standing under the eves of the Pub, huddled into an alcove. His bike resting against the wall of the pub, half in the rain. "Mama, I can use the umbrella from my show bag to go and get Papa!" I allow her to have her fun, much to the protests of the father being rescued. For he knows that he has to get saturated regardless, while putting the bike on the roof, and that a Dora umbrella is no match for this force of nature, nor is it truly wide enough for a paddler's shoulders.

I must admit I am somewhat surprised that he is standing outside the pub. I was expecting him to be inside, putting away a beer. But all is explained when bike is on the roof, and Peter and Sabina are safely in the car. "The pub is flooded", he says. "I got here, two minutes before the rain hit. Got myself inside the pub. Then it started pouring. Just outside at first. Then inside. Water started coming in everywhere. Under the doors, through the windows, down the light fittings. I swear, you could stand your glass on the bar, and it would fill with water in seconds. It was drier under the eves outside."

We drive home in the pouring rain, and watch how half of the gravel road to our farm is getting eroded away by instant mini creeks.

Meanwhile ... back at the ranch ...

Everything is fine. The back patio is looking quite flooded, and all the boots standing under the eves are pretty much full of water. I am talking, to the brim. But inside, the house is nice and dry, the sheds are nice and dry, and the horses have kept themselves nicely hidden from the sheer impact of the rain.

Valentines Day

I return from my horse riding, and I am greeted by a chocolate heart in a red wrapper hanging on the door. Hmmm ...

After my chocolate is consumed with delight together with my coffee we head off in the car towards Noojee. Then onwards to Toorongo falls. We park the car and proceed on foot. Sabina runs merrily up the path, stopping every now and then to see the water rushing over the rocks. After about 1km or so we arrive at the falls.


The waterfall is beautiful, especially after the recent rains. The water spreads out at the top and cascades down over the rocks like angel hair. We sit spellbound while Sabina eats a snack.

Then we continue on to another rapid. Sabina bounces along the path with renewed vigour. The rapid itself is pretty enough, but the platform jutting out into the river is really cool. It sits right over the middle of the river, with a rapid underneath, and it's made out of a metal mesh, so that you can actually see the water gushing below your feet.

We walk down another path back to the car, flicking off the odd leech. We try to avoid telling Sabina about the leeches, but when we do a full body scan at the car we have to fess up that they are not just mosquitos.

All that rain

It rained during the week. Lots. The gauge is showing 63.5mm. That is a serious drop of rain for one week, even in our neck of the woods.

I arrive at the farm in the evening, unpack the car, and wonder whether to check on the horses. Oh heck, by the time I decide I would have checked and been back again.

I venture outside, let my house shoe slip off and point my toe into the gumboot. Some magical force holds me back. I take my foot out again, and look inside. A girl in a red hat, with a torch on her head is staring back at me from within the boot. "Oh, what the?!" There is at least 10cm of water in it! "Oh, no way!", I break the silence and pour out the water. The insole slips out, saturated, looking somehow gnawed. I check the other gumboot, and pour out another 10cm, maybe more. Sheesh. They were under cover too!

I slip into my jodhpur boots, which have now done so much farm work, they don't provide much protection against the wet. I am about to tip toe off across the temporary swamp that is our back yard, when the magical force makes me look at my horse riding boots. No, couldn't be. I mean, they are further undercover than my gumboots. Not right against the wall like Pete and Sabina's gumboots, but further.

I glance inside and see that girl again. An expletive flies. Not my horse riding boots too! The lining in these will take days to dry out and I have a horse riding lesson on Saturday!

Buckets ... with water

There was a storm during the week, which blew my horse feed buckets down into Bob's valley. I manage to sell the bucket recovery trip to Sabina as an adventure, and we wander down together. I hold her little hand on the steep slope, and gently try to slow her down every now and then. I can't keep up! We find the first bucket and Sabina "ooohs" at the amount of water in it. We pick it up, as well as some rubbish, and go up to the next bucket. "But mama, why is there water in it?". We pick up more rubbish enroute to the third bucket. "Ooooh! Look water! Why is there water in the bucket?" She never asks "why is there water in the rain gauge", so why this fascination?

When papa comes home I encourage her to tell him about our bucket recovery trip. "Papa ... and there was water in the buckets!!!" is her wide eyed version of the story.

Tank and post

The tank dome support pipe needs to be installed. We draw straws - my husband pulls out the one, which indicates he has to install the pipe. My job is to sit outside (more or less) and listen for noises of panic. The thing is, when someone is in a 45,000l tank all movement sounds like noises of panic. So I think my job is to raise alarm, should the noises stop.

Well, strictly speaking, I am actually sitting in the shed sorting through some horse gear. And the only noise of panic comes from me, when suddenly I hear a very clear voice "I need your help, there's a piece of wood under the tank".

So we slowly lift the beast, propping it up with ever increasing logs. And sure enough, there is a very sorry looking piece of broken pine post - a left over from our tank rolling procedure. So having removed the post, the dome support pipe is installed with ease. And now the tank is waiting for gutter and connection installation, while the deluge continues.