Fall Healing Moon
Well pump dead a couple of hundred feet under the surface. It will cost about the same as I’m projecting Kate’s hospital co-payments. Oh, joy. Right now I’m feeling beat down, labile.
I know this is just today’s trouble. And, I know that I’ve solved it. Living Water will have the pump replaced by supper time. But having to spend the day on this, plumber, then well pump guy, has pushed me up to an unhappy edge. Temporary, I know, but right now? Yecchh.
Looked down our well casing. Not much to see. Dark and deep, just like Frost’s snowy woods. The pump truck is in our front yard, boom up about 25 feet or so, lowering down a piece of tackle that links on to 21 foot lengths pvc. They have to be unthreaded and set aside. However deep the well is we’ll have an equivalent amount of pvc. Between 9 and 15 of them.
Then the pump. It labors on our behalf, in the dark, responding when the pressure tank calls for water to keep the house supplied toilets, showers, faucets, hoses, dish and clothes washers. The pump is most of the expense, this one coming in at $1,500. Other matters are metal sleeves for the new pump, new wiring, since the 1991 code requires all wells to have a ground and ours went down in 1982, and, of course, the men and the truck.
Home ownership. The American dream. And water such a big part of it.