Pumphouse Blues

"It appears your pump is dead, and your grass is not doing well," said the gardener over the phone. "We're expecting hundred degree temps this week too."

This is not a good thing to hear when home is in California, and we are in New York. Needless to say, we headed home. It's not quite a 3,000 mile trip, so it was not exactly an overnighter, given that we were traveling by RV. We had one planned stop we had to make. That added two additional days to our all ready 6-day trip.

"It's the motor, not the pump," said the repairman the day after we finally arrived home to browning grass. "We can fix it in one day, but you'll have to trim some of these trees so we can get the truck with the winch into your back yard."

Now, if you've been reading this blog, you know what I think about having Angela up in trees. However, given the circumstances, and with me standing by with 911 on the speed dial, we began two days of tree trimming. We also had to take the roof off the pumphouse.

We filled the dumpster to overflowing with branches, and then had another huge pile to fill it again the next week left over. The motor was done the next day.

Our poor grass, trees and few remaining flowering plants sucked down water three times a day for four days before we saw the first signs of green shoots again. The RV finally got emptied and cleaned out. Whew!

We finally stop singing the Pumphouse Blues.