Mind the well; you're not in suburbia anymore

Originally published September 8, 2015

Ordinary life continues here on the side of the mountain as we continue to adjust to a new ordinary. This weekend I discovered a new ordinary that involves the well, its pump, and the 500 gallon reserve tank that feeds our house and its many watery needs. It used to be, back in suburbia, when the watershed of Greenville so delightfully provided endless supplies of water, Isabel could take 30-minute showers, and I would water in my new hydrangeas, sometimes overnight if I forgot to turn off the hose. I know, right? One of the first issues of this home that we could get a contractor to actually address were the dead cypress trees that stand between us and the busy road. An infestation called a bag worm is killing many trees in the region. It's creepy. They decorate themselves with bits of greenery.

Weird. And then they apparently suck the life out of your tree before they become a moth.

Well, we had 7 trees removed and 9 new ones put in. And it's 85 degrees and not raining. So in my mind, that means, run the sprinkler. Despite the fact that the landscape guy said to get a bucket, punch a hole in the bottom, fill it up, and let it leach slowly into the ground right at the roots of the trees that have been freshly planted and sprayed to prevent more bag worms from taking hold.

Well, I know better! I'm just gonna set my suburban sprinkler out there and let 'er rip while we go on a three-hour tour.

Michael warned me.

We went on a beautiful, yet muggy, hike to Bridal Veil Falls, right here on campus while my sprinkler did its duty. The walk was beautiful, wooded, not unlike most walks on the Domain perimeter, shrouded in trees, protected under rock, and very close to the precipitous edge of oblivion.

What I noticed as we climbed to the top of the falls (which is not on the prescribed trail, and was, by the way, a death march of Michael's concoction), was that the little water was that was dribbling down the rock face was not coming from any noticeable creek. It was literally seeping out from the rocks.

Now I get how Moses did that.

We return home, ready to get dinner started for our party of six due to arrive at 6, and to take a shower so I can run by a baby shower beforehand. Michael notices, however, that the sprinkler is no longer sprinkling.

Mmmmmmm....

So He came to a city of Samaria called Sychar, near the parcel of ground that Jacob gave to his son Joseph; 6and Jacob's well was there. So Jesus, being wearied from His journey, was sitting thus by the well. It was about the sixth hour.7There came a woman of Samaria to draw water. Jesus said to her, "Give Me a drink."… John 4:5-7

Oh Master! If I only could! In my haughty haste, I assumed I knew better. That I knew that this land works - this land that literally spits water out of rock - would continue to provide me whatever I wanted. Mother Nature does provide water (we'll review our history with water in another installment) but we know that she does it in her own time, and at her own speed. Sometimes it's voracious, and sometimes, like on Saturday, before I needed to bathe to attend a party, and cook for guests, it's a drip. Because I had run the well dry.

I hastily put in a call to Jacob's Well. Yes. That is the name of the company that installed our well. What else would you call it? On a holiday weekend, I got, yes, the answering machine.

We went under the deck and looked at the tank. It was empty, sure 'nough. We flipped the breakers to make sure it wasn't an electrical malfunction, and then we looked at it some more. As if looking at it would make water appear. Maybe if we struck it...

Well, (ha ha), Michael was dispatched to retrieve jugs of water from the Piggly Wiggly. We had noticed during the home tour that there were jugs of water in the laundry closet. Maybe we should have paid closer attention.

Anyway, life goes on, and every drop of water that came out of the faucet, or that poured from a jug became very precious, and I treated it very differently. I took a sponge bath so I would be least offensive at the baby shower, and frankly felt quite refreshed.

By the time I got home, Michael said the faucets were running again, and so we decided to go and look at the tank again.

That's really not that much water!

The tank had refilled appreciably. And I don't think it was because we looked at it. God in his grace, and Mother Nature in her plenty, begin to refill our tank after my sprinkler folly. Michael was able to shower before our guests came, and by Sunday morning, it was back to the top.

I feel lucky. Lucky that we have a renewable resource of water in the rock (no doubt) below our home. Lucky that our lesson learned was not more permanent, to our home or our environment. Lucky that J.J., of Jacob's Well, called me back today and allowed me to water the trees, just not with the sprinkler.