2 large plastic bins, 1 plunger, an assortment of basins and one big laugh

I didn't get where I am today without learning to be resourceful in the face of challenge!

Here's the story - thanks to the ongoing Great Flood of 2019, and 1/3 of our village being under waist-high water (and looking to stay that way for a few more weeks), our wastewater treatment plant is rather taxed at the moment and on April 29th we were asked to limit what goes down our drains.

Okay then. It certainly seems a reasonable thing to do under the (apocalyptic) circumstances.



And hey - I knew my collection of basins would come in handy one day!

Mwahahaa!

Instead of showers, we've been doing what we call "bird baths" or "the ol' top and tail". A basin is placed in the bathroom sink, we use that and a wash cloth to wash (only) the bits that need washing. I add a splash of rosewater, which makes it a rather lovely way to get clean. The basin is emptied into a bucket and when full the bucket is emptied over the back fence down the ravine (handy thing, a ravine).

And speaking of rosewater, instead of washing our hair we've been using my all time favourite rosewater trick. Cut small squares of cheesecloth, put them in a jar full of rosewater. Every day, put one of those rosey squares of cheesecloth over the hairbrush so the bristles poke through, then brush thoroughly. The rosewater freshens the hair and removes oils while the cheesecloth catches dust. It's brilliant and honestly, we both have better hair using that trick than when we shampoo it in the shower.

Washing dishes is no big deal, I don't have a dishwasher anyway so it's just a matter of adjusting the routine a little. It takes two more basins; one with (minimally) soapy water, one with clear water for rinsing. Every plate, bowl and piece of cutlery is immediately wiped down with a paper towel after use - that's important! - then washed, rinsed and left to drip dry. If, at the end of the dishwashing session the rinse water is still nice and clear, it becomes the wash water for the next round after the addition of a little soap and some hot water.

After all, we still have plenty of water, it's only the drains we're not supposed to use.

But laundry? Oh boy, now things get real.

Just before the notice came out, I'd done the sheets and towels (thank goodness.) But then it started to rain so I hadn't done our clothes (because, as regular readers know, I do not own a clothes dryer). Things are really starting to pile up now.

Shirts, socks and my dresses will come (reasonably) clean with a good swishing, but jeans? Those require more serious agitation .. nor are any of my basins up to the capacity required for clothes, so this is starting to look a bit tricky ...

But not long ago, my husband came home from his sister's with a gigantic bin full of blankets. I was not, at the time, thrilled, as that bin takes up a lotta room and this is a really small house. So I stashed the (at the time, accursed) bin under the table in my laundry room and forgot about it. But now I am blessing his sister because that bin looks to my eye to be just about right for washing a pair of jeans. Now all I need is another bin the same size for the rinse cycle .. and a plunger to use as an agitator.

My kingdom for an old fashioned wringer!

This will have to be done outside of course, and I don't fully relish the idea, believe me. I am NOT planning on using water from the outside hose, my hands would freeze. Buckets of warm water will have to be hauled from the house to wherever it is that I set up my laundry station ..  and it will have to be done in the chilly hours of the morning in order for everything to have time to dry on the line, because even my strong hands will never wring as much water out of clothes as the spin cycle on my washer can .. aw jeeze Louise .. hand wringing jeans ..

Yet I find myself almost .. a little bit .. looking forward to this? I'm always preaching about having a "hands-on" life, and this is it, in spades. It's good to have the kind of convictions that serve us well when the chips are down. Isn't that the point of having them? To have something to guide us when life throws us a curve?

Since the prison sentence that is winter ended and I've been able to go for walks again, those walks are getting longer and longer as I get back into shape. The walks include scrambling over some fairly challenging ground; we live at the edge of town and I've got access to some pretty wild places. I've been really pushing myself, physically, and it feels good. Any aches and pains I may have - and there are a few! - are now aches and pains I earned. Sitting around doing nothing all winter made me ache anyway. This is better. So hey, if my arms and hands end up aching after doing laundry by hand, what of it? It'll sure beat taking my laundry to the city, to some grotty laundromat, where I'd have to use unhygenic machines - ugh - which would cost us money, gas for the trip and - also ugh - the unpleasant business of the noise and smells of "civilisation".

For those who are interested, the Great Flood (as I've been calling it) is nowhere near over. The forecast peak now looks to be midweek - that's next week - and the waters won't recede for at least another 3 weeks after that. We may or may not get a second, higher, peak, depending on how quickly the snow in the north melts and comes this way and how well "they" can control that flow with the system of dams and reservoirs up there. Apparently they're still measuring that snow in meters (1 meter = 3.28 feet according to Google) so .. yeah .. it's pretty bad.

My walks are taking me down to the riverbank. Not into town where the river is inundating houses, but the other way, to a more natural area where the river's creeping up, yes, but not nearly to the same degree. And isn't that interesting, that in areas where the marshy land is still marshy (like right behind our house, the area I was so worried about) the land is absorbing the water quite nicely. The river came up and then just stopped. And because we're upstream from any major towns that water looks and smells clean. In fact it smells really good, just like a river should.

There are maples up to their ankles in water but I know they'll survive; maples can take a challenge like that. The alders, too, which are completely at home in water and the birches which don't seem to mind. I see a beaver has been up to something recently; there are freshly gnawed stumps, with the trees themselves nowhere to be seen. Farther away from the river the wild honeysuckles are beginning to leaf out, making for a sort of mist of jewel green in the understory. There are ferns coming up, right now still at the hard brown nub hiding under fallen brown leaves stage - it's remarkable how solid those things are when you trip over one, so I have to watch my step - and there are moss covered logs for me to sit on while I contemplate the world around me.

And that's what I've been doing, every day.

Because every day the fear and stress of all the people affected by this flood seeps into my brain and scares me, too. The tension, coming from thousands of people in dozens of villages and several cities trying to save their homes and the infrastructure they depend on, is extreme.

When the awareness of it all gets to be too much for me I go to where time moves differently, where reality is just more real somehow. Yes, there's seeming tragedy in the wild too - it's especially sad for the deer, but I have to keep in mind that those deer were introduced for the hunters, they don't actually belong here. So yes, it's sad that they are suffering just as it's sad that so many people are losing their homes that - as it turns out - don't belong where they are either. But in the grander scheme of things this is .. just .. what it is. In nature it's something else entirely, a completely normal part of the ever changing environment.

We just happen to be in the way.

The lesson for us - humans, collectively - is to pay more attention to where we build and why. The lesson for me - as an individual - is to rely on my convictions and my wits and to adapt to circumstances as best I can. I'm glad we had the smarts to choose to live in this particular village, upstream from the more densely populated areas, where the river isn't washing nasty shit onto our shores. I'm glad we had the smarts to choose to live uphill from the river, at a distance from the worst of the danger zone. But I'm keenly aware that things could still go tits-up, badly; the over taxed sewer system could back up into our house, say, or ..

OH WAIT - oh this is too funny ..

I just took a break from writing this post and called town hall to ask them if they have any idea how long it will be before we can do laundry or shower.

Sarah, the so-called "receptionist" on the front desk (who, let's face it, knows everything there is to know in this town) laughed merrily at me and said, "Oh go ahead, live your life, it's not that bad! We just put that notice up so people wouldn't overly tax the system. We especially want everyone with a sump pump to run it outside rather than through the drains. But go ahead, you can do your laundry, you can shower. We closed the school because that's a big strain on the system, but normal household use is fine."

Ha! Well then!

I dunno. It still just seems a bit .. untoward that my life could be so normal while so many thousands are losing literally everything. It seemed the least I could do to roll up my sleeves and live without use of my drains if it meant I was 'doing my bit'. Of course I heeded that call and erred on the side of extreme caution for a few days and I would have done more if needs be. Do I feel a bit silly?

Not really.

So okay, this turned out to just be a drill. But I had a plan and was willing to implement it.

Now - if I ever see an old wringer with a clamp at a yard sale again - and I often do - then instead of looking at it from a distance and thinking hmmm, that might come in handy some day I'll inspect it closely. Because tools like that are not just poignant reminders of our past, they can be valuable parts of an 'off-grid' system that you just bloody well never know when you might need.

Come to Mama!