We had a drought here in the eastern part of our fair country this past summer and fall, but fair to say the entire country has experienced many challenges due to climate change. Nova Scotia and New Brunswick have been hit the hardest, local reports say. I’m not convinced we are winning that race, but fire roared and ravaged the land in a province that doesn’t boast a single fixed-wing water bomber in its equipment inventory for forest fire readiness, in a province whose economy relies heavily on its forest industry, and in a province where clearcutting practices are ongoing despite awareness of the harmful impact of such tactics.
I am one of those few homeowners whose drilled well is feeling the impact of drought. Dug wells are usually the first to suffer in times of lean rain. After a month of limited water flow, my water supply has become non-existent, not even a trickle. The symptoms first appeared on September 23rd. I had been regularly using water sparingly due to the dry conditions, which evolved to only turning the tap on out of desperation and curiosity. I hauled pails of water from a generous neighbour whose water supply is fed by an artesian well. My childhood farm had an artesian well and water was a commodity that was never in doubt. That isn’t the case in my current accommodations, so instead of getting frantic and feeling hard done by, I decided to pretend I was a pioneer, a pioneer with internet and electric lights and heat. Water shortage of this type is not life threatening, merely an inconvenience. Winter is coming and the inconvenience is taking on a new hue.
My father used to tell me that the true nature of a person shows itself in times of difficulties. I don’t consider myself a stoic. I think I’d be tempted to throw in the towel due to a serious hangnail. That may be an exaggeration, but the child who still lives rent free in my head would like very much if my dad could just pop by and save the day. My father was a farmer, so he wore many hats – plumber, electrician, carpenter, veterinarian, mechanic, nose-wiper, hand-holder. He did it all as most men of his generation did. He taught me a lot of those skills, some of which I acquired by observation and others due to his patient instruction. I consider myself handy. But this water issue has me doubting my determination. I don’t mind brushing my teeth with a glass of water. I don’t mind boiling water on the stove to wash my dishes. I gratefully accept offers of a shower at my kind neighbour’s house and the occasional load of laundry. I don’t mind using a pail of water to flush my toilet. Wait a minute, I do mind that one. I’ve become soft by enjoying seventy years with a flushing toilet and running water. And, as I sit here pondering what next steps might be, I realize I’m going to have to bite the bullet and use the telephone and if you’ve been reading my columns for any of the last fifteen years you will know that using the telephone is a bit like sky-diving for those afraid of heights.
I did call a plumber and left a message of my sad tale. He called me back, a rarity in itself. Tradespeople are in short supply in outlying areas so getting one to return a call is a win all on its own. And to top it off, he was kind and reassuring. He has a pretty good idea of what is wrong based on my shared details – pressure tank will no longer fill, can’t hear the pump kicking in, not a dribble of water from the tap, and I changed the cartridge in the sediment filter. He told me not to worry, that it doesn’t sound like a water supply issue but rather equipment failure. Most of the area wells that were struggling have recovered, he said. “Certainly, the drilled ones.” I’m trying not to get too excited imagining a flushing toilet and a shower in my own home rather than a short drive away. Not having to carry pails of water for toilet flushing sounds like bliss, but I shouldn’t get ahead of myself. Take it as it comes.
As I am writing this, the Blue Jays are amazing me with their endurance, after a gut-wrenching loss in a stamina-testing eighteen inning game, to come back the next day for a win goes way beyond tenacity. Whatever happens now is of no consequence to me; the Jays are already winners, and the outcome will be known by the time this goes to print. The Jays magic has solved my little water problem, or at least, it feels like it has.
wendistewart@live.ca
