Posts Tagged ‘drainage swale’
Fool’s Errand
Backstory: My initial lesson in how water flows across our land was after the first winter we moved here, in the spring of 2013. It is a powerful thing to witness large amounts of water begin to flow toward the next lowest spot on the way to the nearest river.
When the big melt started that spring, snow had filled the main drainage swale along the southern border of our property. It was impossible to see the water moving beneath the snow cover, but when the flow became too much for the situation, that snow became a dam. The water backed up until it spilled over the bank and flooded our neighbor’s farm field.
It became obvious to me that neglected growth had begun to clog up the western end of the drainage path. That caused the snow to jam against the little trees and thick underbrush until it formed the blockage.
Every year since, I have endeavored to keep our span of the drainage path clear before snow season starts.
Nowadays, most of the flow happens during heavy downbursts of rainstorms, but just in case a big snowfall might still happen, I continue to clear growth from the center of the swale.
Yesterday, I used the string trimmer to carve a path down the middle, instead of the brush cutter pulled by the big diesel tractor. The big tractor flattens much of the tall grass, and then the brush cutter just passes over that without actually mowing it.
Clearing the path right down the center is the fool’s errand, because the flow of water doesn’t care that I want it to stay in the middle and follow the lane I have carved. Runoff carries a lot of organic debris and silt. Anywhere the flow slows, floating material settles out, creating a high spot, so the water then moves around it. Water carves its own path.
So the actual washed-out gully that forms zigs and zags on and off the path I cut. As long as the tall outer sides of the swale are intact, the ultimate purpose is achieved. My choosing to cut the path down the middle is meant to guarantee there will be nothing to collect snow if that situation were to occur again.
Another fool’s errand happens indoors with our dog, Asher. When we picked him up from his foster home, it was obvious he LOVED being on their furniture. We weren’t sure about giving his large 90-pound frame free range on our furniture, but he won us over to a partial degree. Our bed is off limits, and he learned that right away. Cyndie bought covers for the couch and one chair in the living room.
Lately, he’s decided he’d rather choose the tight confines of an uncovered chair.
We can’t resist his sweet little face and don’t really care –his hair is everywhere, regardless– but it is comical that he seems to flow wherever the spirit moves him, regardless of our attempts to guide him.
Seems a little like the water in our drainage swale.
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Wintery Spring
After what seemed like an almost summery winter, we are now experiencing a very wintery spring. Did I mention the meteorologists were referring to this storm as a long-duration event? It rained hard almost the whole night before turning to snow again yesterday morning.
Now on top of the inch or two of standing water that was covered by about 7 inches of saturated snow, we were receiving oodles of new, dryer snow. It made for some really laborious trudging while accompanying Asher on one of his daily rounds.
The drainage swale that cuts across our back pasture was clearly visible as the rainwater made its way from the fields to enter the creeks that run to the rivers that eventually make their way to the mighty Mississippi for the journey to the Gulf of Mexico. It’s all downhill from here.
When I took these pictures, I was standing on the footbridge I built that allows for ease of travel across the spot where our swale meets the ditch along the south border of our property. That ditch was filled with more flowing water than I have seen in a very long time.
It is dry 98% of the time. It channels runoff during spring melts and occasional flash-flooding rain storms.
As Asher and I reached the far corner of our property on the trail we call the North Loop, a bald eagle swooped up out of the field as if we’d disturbed it from some activity. The very top of the tallest pine tree in our neighbor’s front yard became the eagles’ perch.
If there was a carcass the beautiful bird had been involved with, I didn’t want Asher to find it so we trudged onward to finish the property border walk and get back to the safe confines of the house. The conditions outside were teetering uncomfortably close to the category of being unfit for man or beast.
I’m looking forward to the end of this long-overdue smattering of winter so we can return to some much more spring-like conditions. We’ve certainly got a good head start on “April showers.”
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Fingers Crossed
What are the odds that our favorite excavating company will actually show up today with a load of black dirt, a skid-steer, and years of know-how to professionally finish the shoulders of our driveway? It’s only been more than a year of waiting since they agreed to help us. When I checked (for the umpteenth time) on Monday and was told it would happen on Wednesday, I assumed he meant next week.
He corrected me and said this week! I wasn’t going to argue. I played along like I fully believed him. Pardon my skepticism.
Still, I have taken steps of preparation in case today really will be the day. A couple of weeks ago, I tried enticing the scheduler with an invitation to do even more work than just the driveway, hoping a bigger job would make the trip worth more to them.
It is time to reshape the drainage swale that passes through both the hay field and the back pasture on the way to moving water off the property toward the closest river. Yesterday I mowed the area to provide a better view of the current topography and, most importantly, to clearly indicate the direct route I want shaped up for the most effective flow.
Looking up to the culvert that brings water under the driveway:
Looking down at the route across the back pasture:
They actually did this for me about ten years ago when I was hoping to permanently establish a well-defined, wide, slow-flowing grassy swale. How naive of me to think any waterway could be permanently shaped. In the years since, two things have happened: an accumulation of sediment has created a high spot beyond which a series of deep ruts have washed out.
After they finish improving the shoulders of the driveway, I’m hoping they will be able to re-grade the drainage swale.
Fingers are crossed. For them to get both jobs completed and, more importantly, that they actually show up today.
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Home Happy
I’m still thoroughly enjoying being home again but last night’s dinner of grilled pork chops left over from one of our fantastic meals up at the lake gave me a moment of hesitation as I mentally revisited the greatness of those days.
It’s a rough comparison since my day yesterday was spent sweating over pulling weeds, running the power trimmer, and mowing grass in the tropical heat wave of the hottest July on record. Who wouldn’t prefer to be back up at the lake?
Well, I’m pretty happy being able to sleep in our usual bed with the conveniences of a bedside table. I really like our shower. I’m spoiled by how much room there is, allowing for soaping up just beyond the spray of water. My regular routine of charging my phone and laptop works best with my home setup.
I like having the manure compost under daily control. Once every week or week and a half is just too much work all at once to get piles cooking efficiently again. Getting grass mowed before it gets too long is also a preference.
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After dinner, we walked the trash and recycle bins down to the road with Asher at our sides, making it back with time to spare before the first wave of thunderstorms arrived overhead. That weather came in with an ominous-looking cloud line and a dramatic burst of tree-bending wind.
The brief duration of the heavy downpour was a bit anti-climatic when that ended up being all that happened.
Not that I was looking for weather trouble. Quite the contrary. We already have the makings of a small canyon in the paddocks where draining rainfall has washed away the lime screenings into the main drainage swale. The battle against gravity and moving water is never ending in my quest to best manage runoff.
I’m afraid it’s time to extricate the back blade from the depths of the shop garage for attaching to the diesel tractor to scrape gravel back “upstream.” I was relatively successful the last time I tried doing that but the exercise remains on the fringe of skills I have acquired on the big tractor. It always feels like I am on the verge of making things a lot worse instead of better.
Regardless, we are home and that is making me as happy as it always does.
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Rivers Running
Last Thursday I was driving home from work in a dramatic thunderstorm. By the time I arrived at our house, the bulk of the rain was moving away to the east. I immediately packed my car and drove to the lake with little discussion about how much rain had fallen at home earlier that day while I was working on the far side of the Cities.
Last night, Cyndie finally showed me what it looked like here as heavy rain fell Thursday morning.
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The drainage swale across our back pasture was flowing like a river. The ditch that runs along our southern border looked like an even bigger river. I am very pleased to have just knocked down the tall growth along the center of that ditch only a few days before, allowing the flow to proceed unhindered.
As I was mowing all of our turf grass yesterday, it became clear that the rain we have received has made the grass very happy. It was very tall and has thickened up considerably from the last time I mowed.
Everything is looking as lush and deeply green as a typical June day, which is a little odd since tomorrow is the first day of September. Although, I did notice a twinge of red color starting in one of the maple trees by the barn.
The rivers are done running already, but the wheels of the lawn tractor revealed multiple spots where the ground is still saturated.
It’s a little odd thinking of people living in the path of Hurricane Ida who are dealing with so much calamity while our little flash floods don’t cause any trouble here.
Counting our blessings, for the time being, free of wildfires, earthquakes, and hurricanes, while sending our love out to those who live in regions experiencing some really challenging situations lately.
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Horse Time
We arrived home yesterday afternoon to many examples of evidence that Wintervale had received a significant dousing of rain while we were away. The actual amount is unclear because the rain gauge at the top of the hill had water in it from the sprinkler for the vegetable garden. It was filled to over 4.5 inches.
The other gauge at the bottom of the hill near the labyrinth had tipped off its screws and was leaning over sideways, although it had about an inch of water in it. It’s likely our total was somewhere between those two amounts.
The tall grass in the drainage swales was laid flat by the pressure of rainwater leaving an obvious depiction of the volume that flowed over it.
The paddock was a little messy but the horses didn’t show much concern about how wet it had been. There was evidence that a couple of them had rolled in the dirt recently to coat their hides with a natural protection from biting flies.
They were standing around in their usual space under the overhang when Cyndie and I wandered out into the hayfield while coaxing them to join us. Mia quickly made her way after us but paused at the gate.
Soon after, all three of the others made their way down as well, but none of them chose to join us beyond the paddock fence. Not needing to fret their decision, we easily made our way back to join them for some horse time that seemed as welcome to them as it was to us.
It’s always wonderful to get away to the lake for a weekend, but it’s really, really nice to return home, as well.
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Rain Ready
It feels rather unusual to be saying we are ready for rain to fall after so many spring months through the years where we have battled managing too much rain. It could be because I finally built that footbridge over the drainage ravine that we have a dry spring. All our drainage swales are bone dry.
The exercise of mowing the grass yesterday was an exceptionally dusty one.
Our forecast paints a picture of soaking rain due to arrive later today and lasting through tomorrow. We could get up to two inches according to the weather folks. This morning will be a rush of completing as many outdoor chores as possible before confining ourselves indoors where Cyndie has plans to sew more masks. The face coverings have become a necessary accessory for being out and about in public spaces.
The inverted stump planter has a combination of geranium, lantana bandana, vinca vine, and potato vine installed and ready for watering. She transplanted some catmint from the labyrinth to surround the stump. They can spread out in the new location, where they were expanding problematically into the pathway in the labyrinth.
After felling all those trees under the two big oaks, one of which is in the background of the image above, we have two big stacks of wood to be converted to chips that Cyndie intends to use around all her new plantings. I may try to begin that process before lunch today, but from the looks of the sky already, I may run into a rain delay.
That won’t bother me at all.
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Bridge Built
It hasn’t started raining today yet, but precipitation is on the way. Knowing that, yesterday I made it a priority to finish the bridge I started a week ago. I wanted to get it done while the weather was nice. I’ll let the pictures tell most of the story:
Once the frame was complete, I used the cut pieces (previously employed as shims to level joists during assembly) for reducing friction when I single-handedly dragged the base across the gorge. It was heavy!
For now, there will be a step up onto the deck, but at some point in the near future, I plan to dig down so the ends will be at ground level so the lawn tractor can roll smoothly up and over.
I wonder how heavy it is now.
If we get too much water flowing, the whole thing will get pushed out of position. However, if that happens, we will have other flood-related problems to deal with that will make the shifted bridge a minor concern.
I’m going to bank on the likelihood that’s not gonna happen.
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Working Alone
My high hope of building a footbridge in a single weekend fell victim to my need to accomplish all the tasks without a helper and also my being the sole entertainer for Delilah’s high-energy needs.
Add in the less-than-ideal windy and cold spring weather, plus the limitations of the batteries for my cordless circular saw, and my inability to finish by the end of the day yesterday was not all that surprising.
I resorted to two different solutions for supporting the long boards that I cut. That treated lumber is really heavy compared to the remnants of the old cedar deck boards I’m using for bracing.
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The pallets had a tendency to collapse, so I switched up to plan B on the second day: old moldy hay bales. That provided welcome consistency.
Because the bridge will end up being very heavy, I decided to build the frame right next to the washout I’m covering and then drag it into position.
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I was able to haul the boards down by the fence and begin to screw some of the cross-supports into position but quit when the time had passed for Delilah’s dinner. I’ll leave the finishing until next weekend.
Trying to screw the pieces together square and true proved challenging on the uneven ground. I want to give that the time and attention necessary to get everything precisely the way I want it. Then I plan to move it into position before screwing down the floorboards.
I’m not sure I’d be able to lift it if I waited until it was completely built. I mean, not without someone with a strong back to help me.
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Pandemic Loneliness
It is hard to predict what the situation will be 10-days from today but based on comparison with geographic locations where the coronavirus outbreak is that far ahead of here, it seems that people who don’t feel sick now may have symptoms by then. That really does make it feel strange to carry on with life as usual.
Sure, the odds go down if you only expose yourself to a handful of people every day, but what good does that limitation do if one of those people have the virus and don’t know it? So, the safest bet is to stay home entirely. All by myself.
It feels a little apocalyptic.
I’m going to build a bridge.
While Cyndie is hunkered down with her parents in Florida, I’m alone to pick eggs and walk the dog. Between tending to animals, I’m going to try solo construction and use leftover deck lumber to make a bridge over the eroding drainage swale. It will take some ingenuity to manipulate 16-foot boards into the chop saw all on my own, but I think I can figure something out.
The muddy effort we put in to re-establish the concerted flow of the drainage swale across our land appears to have paid off.
That provided motivation to get on with this bridge project sooner than later. Actually, I have a little extra time before the primary need arrives. During the growing season, I cut the grass along the strip just beyond the pasture fence to maintain a walking path, and the erosion blocked my ability to drive the lawn tractor beyond that point. The bridge is a solution to that barrier.
I won’t need to mow for a few weeks yet. Look at how little in the way of green growth there is to be found in our current landscape.
That will change real soon.
A lot like the looming intensity of a certain virus outbreak underway.
I wonder what our landscape will look like in 10-days.
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Relative Something 