Water conservation

I’m watching the farm this week while the in-laws are on vacation. Really, I’m escaping from the city. There’s only so much pollution I can inhale at a time before I start to yearn for cleaner air and open spaces.

Yesterday I learned how to turn the pivot (or giant water sprinkler for those non-farmers out there) on and off. It’s a messy muddy job, but I liked it. It made me feel like I was accomplishing something, even if I was just starting a motor and moving some pipe around.

This morning, it started raining….hard. We had thunder, lightening, the whole shebang. BIL called to tell me to turn the pivot off. He said I could wait until the rain let up, but I was determined to get it done right away. I had just finished a session on water usage in the U.S. and developing worlds and didn’t want to waste any water we could keep in the ground.

Ran outside in my blue scrub bottoms, purple tank top, and green irrigation boots. Ready for a fashion show, I was not. I quickly realized that this was not the most protective attire for rain when everything was drenched in about twenty seconds. Decided to take the four-wheeler for two reasons. One, I was soaked and didn't think it was a good idea to get the truck wet. Two, I was pretty sure I would get the truck stuck and did not look forward to explaining to my FIL why the tires were buried in two feet of mud.

I was speeding down the gravel road toward the path I thought I remembered going through the beans and corn to one of the pivot parts when I realized I couldn't see. The rain was stinging my face and arms, the mud was splattering my eyes and hair, and thunder was cracking overhead. I wiped my face with my cleanest dirty arm and took a left.

Turned off the engine for the pivot and headed to the water pump. Corn is sharp. Dripping wet knife sharp corn attacking my arms like tiny razorblades was a job hazard I had never considered. I made it to the pump, hopped off the four wheeler, and lost my irrigation boot in the calf deep mud puddle. It was still pouring rain, my other boot was half full of water, my hair was dripping mud and rain, and the pump was shooting icy water at my knees. I hopped on one foot and tried to convince the boot it really wanted to be on my foot.

I pulled....and pulled....and pulled. Nothing. I gave one last huge yank, and the boot came loose with a disgusting schlepping sound. I would have celebrated, but I was busy summersaulting backwards into the other deeper mud puddle. I landed flat on my back, boot in hand. The mud wasted no time in letting me know that it wanted me to stay by oozing over my stomach and legs.

I struggled out of the mire still holding my boot, stood in front of the icy spray to rinse off a bit, flipped the pump switch, and clambered back onto the four wheeler. I made it back to the house and came in through the basement so I would track mud on the least amount of floor necessary. Pup came bounding down the stairs (she escaped her kennel, the brat), took one look at me, and backed up the stairs barking and growling. I caught a glimpse of myself as I was getting in the shower. (Clothed. I had to get some of the mud off somehow.)

I was a total combo.