My Country Life

About ten years ago I bought a red and white vintage water dipper, like the one I remember seeing at Aunt Annie's house when I was a little girl.  Aunt Annie lived way out in the country, way past Rustin's Lake where we did our swimming in summertime. Her ramshackled, unpainted farm house sat up on a hill, back off the winding dirt road.  A deep porch spanned the front of the house, and it was littered with boxes, farm implements, flower pots, and mismatched chairs.  Chickens scurried about in the bare dirt yard, and a set of rickety steps led up to the cluttered porch. The entry door opened to a central hallway that emptied into a sparse kitchen in the back of the house.  A hand pump mounted beside a huge sink promised indoor water in return for more than a few cranks on the pump.  A red and white enamel dipper hung on a nail over the sink.  If you needed a drink of water, you used the dipper. And then you hung it back on the nail for the next person who needed a dri

I have been dreaming about and planning for a well at the cabin for years now. I first intended to drill the well back in the fall of 2008, but the economy took a dip, and I decided not to spend the money.  A well is a major expense and one that you cannot precisely quantify in advance because the cost varies with depth.  Some costs are fixed: the pump, the tank, and the water line. But there is a huge variable cost; drilling comes in at $10 per foot.  And there is the slight risk and worry that you may drill and drill but not find water.   Thankfully, that did not happen to me.