On Wednesday when I woke up, the MR greeted me with the news that the well guys were coming. I wasn’t too concerned about it. I had a busy day planned.
First there was ladies’ Bible study, then I was going to drop in at the library and pick up some books, stop by the store and buy some of my favorite tomato soup for lunch, and then teach a class on blocking at the local yarn shop. I figured the well guys would have wrapped up work by the time I got home. But that wasn’t meant to be.
Now let’s start back at the beginning. The well has been an issue since day one; it was almost the deal-breaker that stopped us from buying this place. Just before the sale, during the inspection process, we discovered that the output was really low. The original owner couldn’t believe it, so he went in halves with us on a cleaning procedure. That made a big difference, but pressure has continued to be an problem. And let’s be real here. This is western Washington, we live not too far from a rain forest, water is plentiful here especially this time of year.
The well guys have mentioned the need for a new well which is an expensive undertaking with an uncertain outcome. They’re have been advances in well upkeep and the company’s equipment over the past five years, so we decided to try a “cleaning” before doing anything drastic like digging a new one.
And that’s what they were here for to air-jet the perforations and hopefully increase output. We woke to pouring down rain, but they seemed to be dealing with it fine.
By afternoon when I arrived home, the sun was shining brightly and the MR was down in the meadow discussing the amazing progress. Apparently they’d tripled the outflow. Sounds like it was the perfect choice for now. I figured they’d be wrapping things up soon. I first realized something was wrong when the MR ran inside looking for his gloves and unceremoniously locking Cocoa away from the action.
When I stepped out on the deck, I had a bird’s-eye-view of a very large truck stuck in our meadow.
They’d laid down the pavers from our old raised beds that we’d removed last spring. These still weren’t enough to get it out of there, so the MR came to the rescue with his pickup. It looked a lot like David towing Goliath.
I had a few tense moments watching the back of their truck fishtail toward my garden and worrying whether the truck would leap forward and bump the fence or the fellow adjusting the blocks.
The tennis court turned out to be a short reprieve. The well guys needed to add their trailer to the load. We had our fingers crossed that they’d be able to make it.
No such luck. The MR brought his truck around again to tow it out.
This time it just wasn’t enough. They called the office and had them bring out boards with traction and were finally able to leave long after dark. I canceled our evening plans, had dinner in the oven, and a glass of wine ready for the MR when he came in three hours later.
The meadow is pretty torn up, but the MR says he’ll rake it smooth and the grass will cover everything come spring. All I have to do is put a few blocks back in place and my garden will be set.
We’re never living somewhere with a well again, or so I’ve been told.
Do you have a stuck story to share?