Water is a dirty word in these parts. The rain is frustrating at best, depressing if you dwell too long. But at the risk of getting throttled, water is looking pretty darn sexy to me right now.
Clean water. Drinkable Water. Ah, deep well water. After living with shallow-well-orange-silt for years, I’ve joined the ranks of the deep well privileged. No more schlepping gallon jugs from a friend’s house, bleaching toilets and dingy clothes. It’s a remarkable event to turn on a faucet and have clear, drinkable water.
Truthfully though, drinkable water wasn’t enough for me to spend the cash for a deep well. It ain’t cheap going deep but I wanted irrigation. I might be able to put up with the hassle of carrying water but my plants can’t. So last fall I called the Fetteroff Company and scheduled digging in the spring.
Mr. Fetteroff arrived in May, tall, quiet and intimidating. He’s the kind of man who knows so much but says so little. I quizzed his daughter, Gina, on the operation. She is remarkable, a sweetheart and tough, running the rig with the two guys. After a week of being in each other’s company and watching each other’s work our days became friendlier. Mr. F and I laughed over the chickens and bemoaned the weather together. Gina and the crew were fantastic and even bought a whole bunch of strawberries!
A week later “the world’s greatest plumber/electrician,” as I now call him, showed up and hooked the water to the house and trenched out in the fields. Mr. Harris is amazing; I love watching him work. Organized, efficient and he explained every step of the job to me before and after he did it. He has a great sense of humor and his priorities straight.
The money spent still makes me queasy but even more grateful for the water that flows at the farm and for the men and women who do such good work. If you ever need a good driller or plumber/electrician let me know. And, if you’re willing to share your favorite contractor’s name I’d be grateful!