The universe is really looking favorably upon my little house, making up for the two-month ordeal with the landscaper (resulting in grass being planted in June, rather than April) with almost daily rain! I haven’t even had to consider the ethical dilemma of breaking the water restrictions.
Success, though, turned out to be a mixed blessing (you hear that sometimes). It was too much for my drainage ditch, which channels storm runoff from the street through a series of back yards and eventually into a creek.
Remember what the ditch looked like before?
And remember how it looked “After?” All nice and rock-garden-ish?
Still, I had never really paid attention to what happens down there, so during a rainstorm, I slipped outside with my camera, and this is what I saw:
Holy Whitewater, Batman! I know the storm drain catches both sides of the street, and who knows what else. After a week of daily thunderstorms, this is what my ditch looks like.
All of the fresh dirt is gone (and grass, and burlap, and erosion-control mesh fabric, and two bales of straw – still in bales) – washed downstream like a lava flow from some red-clay volcano. My rocks are lying in the bottom of a canyon.
I don’t know what to do with it, and I’m irked that I can see it from my home-office window, which makes “denial” a pretty ineffective coping mechanism.
In a word “oy”… great undertaking though… remember Phil 4:13
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