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Old Faithful On The Farm

It was just another day on the farm. Well, it wasn’t really a farm, we were just pretending it was. The chickens were safely in their yard, the dog was with the kids, and the air was filled with the sound of rustling leaves. So far, everything was going fine. My husband left early this morning, he had a staff meeting, Andy was back from Kindergarten, and now he and Janie were playing outside.

It was October, and our fourth month here. But I wasn’t really counting—only once in a while, when things went wrong. Here, it seemed, it was always one step forward and two steps back.

This morning, though, I felt better. Two days ago, we bought a washing machine, and yesterday it was installed. I went over to the machine, and gave it a little pat. After taking our laundry to the laundromat all summer, this machine was a dream come true! It wasn’t easy to install, though. It was hard to find a good workman—we didn’t know anyone here. Finally I found Bert, and he arrived yesterday, to hook it up.

I wanted to have this done right, and hovered over him as he looped the machine’s spanking new hose to the weathered looking receptor that stood in the corner, fastened to the wall.

“You sure that connection’s alright? I asked.
“Ummm,” he answered.
“Sure looks like it’s had lots of wear,” I continued, “It looks a bit pitted. I sure hope it doesn’t leak.”
Bert looked at me. His eyes looked rheumy, as if he hadn’t had enough sleep.
“You have something to do?” he said.
My feathers were a bit ruffled by this, but I took the hint and left him to finish up.

It was finally ready to go

I could hardly wait to use it, imagining taking out the first load, freshly washed and smelling clean. The clothes line was only steps from the kitchen door, the clothes pegs hung in a basket on the wall. I loaded it up with the right amount of laundry, just like the instructions said. I measured the soap, and set the lavender fabric softener in a cup on the counter, ready to pour it in when the dial was at ‘rinse’.

Everything was perfect—well, not perfect really, but more perfect than usual. Things sometimes went wrong here. First the water pump stopped working, and had to be primed. That meant no running water for two days, we had to carry it from the gas station across the street in plastic jugs.

Then the oil stove wouldn’t work, and I had to coax it by adjusting the oil intake. It always happened just as I was starting supper, when my husband wasn’t home—he usually could get it going. And the power! The breaker kept going off, shutting the power off, and I had to run downstairs with a flashlight to snap the fuses off and on until I found the right one.

The kitchen was still a mess, but there was progress.We found a fridge at the hardware store, and had it delivered. No installation required. All we had to do was plug it in. And the bathroom worked fine. The owners before us had installed a new toilet and sink, and we all loved the big bathtub.

So this morning, just listening to the back and forth swishing of the washing machine, I felt happy—so happy I stopped thinking about my model home in Calgary.

Just so I didn’t get too smug…

Then the machine stopped. I panicked.Was something wrong? I stopped breathing. But no, it was just a pause in the cycle, and I let my breath out as it went into a steady, humming spin.

Suddenly, Andy burst into the kitchen, with Janie following close behind.

“Guess what!” they said in chorus, and my heart skipped a beat. What was it this time—snakes? A dead bird?

“Ofayfo is here, just like on our trip!” Janie said, her voice ringing with excitement, “Right in our yard!”

“She means Old Faithful,” Andy said, “It went once, and it’s going to go again! Come and watch!”

I glanced at the washing machine, it was in the spin cycle, wobbling a little since the floor was uneven, I didn’t like to leave it until the spin was over—but it seemed okay, the cycle almost done.

I dashed through the shed and followed the kids outside, with a sinking feeling. Who was Old Faithful, and what was he doing in our yard?

And there it was, a geyser, almost as high and splashy as the one we saw in Yellowstone Park, only this one had suds, lots and lots of suds, they smelled like lavender, and filled the back yard.

My mind went back to Bert, and what he told me about the hose. “Good for a hundred years,” he said, “Just like this house.”

Okay, Bert, what now?

Sure I thought, with a flash of anger, except you didn’t check to see if it was hooked up to anything, like a sewage system or a septic tank.

The kids were delighted. Finally the geyser stopped.

“Let’s wait until it goes off again!” they chimed.

“Better not,” I said, “Old Faithful’s never, ever going to go off here again!”

16 thoughts on “Old Faithful On The Farm”

  1. Well, that would have made me REALLY mad, especially when I lived in the country and it was very difficult to get service people to come out. I would have hung around and watched, just as you tried to do.

    1. Attitudes toward women were not good during the 1960s, we were not considered to be very competent! So, his behavior was not surprising. Things certainly improved not long after that! Thanks, Rin.

  2. That was an exciting time! Reminds me of when my husband’s feet suddenly sunk deep into the backyard and he couldn’t extract them as he went deeper and deeper. That’s how we learned we had a septic tank — and one that needed draining.

    1. Still the Lucky Few

      That is so funny! Maybe not for him, though! Septic tanks were all the rage in outlying areas, and had their pluses and minuses. In all of the various properties we bought and sold (trying to find Nirvana!), I experienced the joy of septic tanks more than once. Glad not to have one now!

  3. Old Faithful indeed! I laughed when I realized what had happened, but only from the distance I have from possible ramifications. This is not a place I would have liked to live in, and gosh, what adventures you had. 🙂

    1. Still the Lucky Few

      Actually the area was a charming, very beautiful neighborhood. The house had stood empty for many years, no one was about to take it on. We soon discovered why! But our four years there were happy, and we learned many skills, things we had never attempted before!

  4. OMGOSH! first I went back to the link of when you first found the house.
    such wonderful posts about it.
    but… ofayfo in your very own yard! smelling sweetly of lavender. LOL!
    bert’s comment to you reminded me of one from my husband one day when I was “helping” him.
    “honey… no offence. but you’re like a pet raccoon.”
    LOLOL!
    there you have it. we’re just not appreciated.
    but i’ve always rather liked little raccoons.

    1. Still the Lucky Few

      Thanks, Tammy j! It was so ironic that I went on to renovate the entire house for the next four years—it became a pathway to some degree of self-fulfillment. I plastered holes in the window and door frames, and sanded and painted them. I wall papered and painted walls, and I even used a wood-patterned wall paper to finish some of the upstairs floors (varnished them to seal them!). I had total artistic control—as long as it cost virtually nothing! I loved doing it, and it put my creativity to the test. Of course, I couldn’t do the plumbing or electricity. Those were the things that cost us!

  5. Jumped over from the Senior Salon
    ~~~~~~~~~~~
    This was great! For decades my dream was to live in a broken down farmhouse with a big wrap-around porch — an under-market house that I could renovate myself with a partner with practical skills lol 🙂

    A friend told me once that houses of that type were like her experience of men with practical skills – all the good ones were taken. We were living in Manhattan at the time, so our definition of “practical” and theirs differed wildly. (I dated a man for some time who LITERALLY did not change light bulbs – he called the super – even though he was a whiz bang at sales and marketing)

    God was good not to grant that particular dream, I believe now. Even more so after reading your post. VERY funny. Thanks for sharing.
    xx,
    mgh
    (Madelyn Griffith-Haynie – ADDandSoMuchMORE dot com)
    ADD Coach Training Field founder; ADD Coaching co-founder
    “It takes a village to educate a world!”

    1. Still the Lucky Few

      Hi Madelyn, Loved your comment! The house did have good bones, and the wrap-around verandah was fantastic. I’ll be writing more about it, and eventually will discuss the outcome.Thank you for your interest.

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