Righting the Rain Barrel

Dried mud-coated landscape fabric "carpet

"Sweep and mop the garden paths" was not on my list.  But I did it anyway.  I'm not OCD, but convincing the woman walking by on the path (rather quickly, I might note, saying only "Hi.") would have been difficult.

Things I get to do today included, however, checking out the rain barrel.  But it all started here: Some years ago landscape fabric was placed between the garden beds as weed control. Changes in the garden had left slimy puddles in the paths and borders of weeds. A willing weekend guest offered his outdoor services, and we went to work, pulling up all the fabric, leveling the surface underneath, folding the fabric "inside out," and tacking it back down.  The bottom side of the fabric had a thin coat of mud on it.  How that could happen in Oregon is no mystery.

Barrel, listing slightly to the left,
leaking it contents into buckets

Here's where I get to vindicate myself.  I am totally fine with the mud on the path carpet.  As it dries on a sunny day, I'm OK with the dusty dirt.  But the rain barrel was listing to one side, and we had already had soil shear failure this past week when my rhubarb leaf bird bath tipped over.  If the rain barrel goes over, the damage is real.

Empty, plumb and ready for rain

Righting the rain barrel means it has to be drained first.  Using the available hose on the barrel tap was so slow that the predicted rain would fill it up before all the water had dribbled out.  I decided to let it flow directly into buckets.  But what to do with 55 gallons of water when nothing in the yard is thirsty?  I sloshed it on the garden paths--all seven of them--and broomed them down while the next bucket filled. I was just finishing up when the woman walk hurriedly by.

Swept and mopped.
Ready for bare feet in the summer

Perhaps there should have a sign on the fence that says:

RELAX.  

SHE REALLY IS HARMLESS.

A Boot Up on the Barrel

Birthday boots

It's boot weather.  My daughter gave them to me for my birthday last year so I could slog in the finest of mud to watch her ride through the same at cyclocross races.  But we had a dry fall.  The best foot wear this year was regular running shoes.


Not to worry,  I've used these gifted boots three times in the last week. Yesterday I walked the two-mile round trip to Tai Chi in them.  They had some mud streaks and dirt, but I was exceedingly grateful for them on the way home when the rain/snow/rain returned with steady intent. On the going and coming, however, I pondered spiffing them up a little for my next venture into public.  Can't recall when they were cleaned last.

And today, pressing right up against my conscience in all the Things I get to do today is clean out the chicken coop.  The weather and the girls and the need to be protected have worn out the shredded wheat-straw on the coop floor.  Time to send this load in a wheelbarrow to a grateful neighbor's garden bed.  Boots are designed for this kind of plarking (see side bar for definition of "plark").  They feel good on my feet, and the chance to spread fresh straw and diatomaceous earth on the coop floor is most rewarding.

Y-e-e-u-u-p.  It's time.

All too soon, I wade through the sloshy back yard and into the house.  Time to clean those boots up--really time after setting the hen pen straight.  Half way to the utility sink, I do an about face. What? Use drinking water to clean the chicken stuff off my foot wear?

Water a plenty with more coming down
by the minute

I grin to myself about having a rain barrel full of water when the little world of my yard is swimming in it.  Now is its time to shine.

Wasting Water is Weird.  Not doing that here!

Moments later the boots are sparkling and almost ready for a public appearance. Must remember this story when mockers and naysayers talk down about my many rain barrels.