The New Seasons: Chapter III

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Autumn

            I truly became hyper-focused on my little covert well project.  I mean, how could I possibly ignore working on it when I spent so much time thinking about it?  Doing some kind of action was the only time my racing thoughts slowed down. Which means that despite the near crippling heat, I continued to work on my hidden well.  So much so, that when I finally drew my first little bit of water out, I had mixed feelings.  Sure, I was elated my hard work had given me a feat and that I – me of all people – constructed something that worked.  And I did it by following some diagrams and watching a few YouTube videos.  But a part of me felt a tinge of disappointment because now what would I focus on?  Also, there was the fact that since I had been so successful in hiding my efforts, there was not one person to share my accomplishment with. I thought of Stuart again and felt a new wave of guilt that I lied to him at that last meeting.  I should probably let him know what I had accomplished because of his guidance. 

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The New Seasons: Chapter II

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Summer

            I didn’t understand a lot of Stuart’s handouts he gave me but I found a couple helpful.  One had a simple diagram of what a backyard well should look like and a list of tools I needed.  For tools, I knew the first place to look: my grandparent’s shed.  It was at the back of their property behind the garage and fairly hidden from the growth of trees.  There was an old alley that was hardly accessed on the other side of the fence which opened up to some undeveloped area on the other side.  We always referred to this as “grandma’s desert” and I used to play there when I was younger.  I could drive down the alley and park my truck, and climb over the old chain link fence to get to the shed.  That way, I could avoid both my grandma and my mom who lived with her and wouldn’t have to explain to anyone why I was interested in the shed.  Or get a fresh round of mocking. I assumed my grandma hadn’t been to this side of her property since grandpa died.  The lock was rusted so I picked up a large rock and broke it.  As I was rummaging through what was left of tools, I realized this would make an excellent cover for a well.  On my first visit, I tore up the floor and threw any unnecessary tools into the back of my truck to make room inside the shed that was about to become a well.

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The New Seasons: Chapter I

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Spring

            It had been a mild winter. 

There had been mild winters before but not like this.  That is to say, in my 25 years of existence, I could remember times of drought.  But even during those dryer years we still received some snow. Maybe most of it came toward the end of winter but eventually there were a few decent snowstorms.  The mildest winters typically meant some water restrictions in late summer, but we always made it from winter to winter. To say we were going to have a dry, brown summer this year was an understatement.  There had been exactly one night of snow back in November over the Thanksgiving weekend.  It didn’t even accumulate enough to get the snow shovels out.  And then nothing really.  Maybe one or two days of rain here and there but nothing to really saturate the ground or top off our water supply.

            Everyone waited all winter.  Most enjoyed the warmer than normal weather.  Some started worrying.  And a few started doing some figuring.

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Shaking those branches on the Family Tree

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My family has been in this area for a few years. And by a few years, I mean generations. I proudly tell anyone with even the tiniest interest that my dad’s grandpa was a mayor. The last mayor of the 19th century in fact. That’s just his paternal side though since his mom hailed from New York state. My mom’s roots however, are a little more plentiful. Both sides on her maternal side came to the area due to coal mining. Coal was the lifeblood of this community after all. Mom’s paternal side, took a more circular route to get here. Ranching outside of town brought the family to the area before eventually moving into town. So, whenever I read a book about local history, I always hope to bump into some family history. It’s true what they say, be careful what you wish for because you just may get it.

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