Posts Tagged ‘rills’
Making Peace
It is getting to a point where I think I just need to make peace with the fact that water runoff on our property will carve its own path no matter what feeble attempts I make to direct it.
We received another short-but-robust deluge from the rain gods yesterday afternoon, which generated eroding runoff flow digging ever deeper into all the existing rills and washouts that had already evolved from the last few downpours this summer.
While standing on one of the spots inside the small paddock where our insufficient attempts to establish a direct route to the drainage swale had long ago spectacularly failed, I tried to envision what a successful solution might look like.
I picture a much more assertive effort along the lines of what you would see done to create a drainage ditch along a roadway. If we dig an unmistakable ditch, we could dump the material we scoop out of it to fill the washouts we’d rather not have.
The big challenge with a serious excavation is getting planted grass to sprout and hopefully hold soil in place before rainfall gets a chance to wash it all away. If money were no object, maybe we could line the ditch with enough river rock to form a creek bed.
Aw, heck, why stop there? Let’s just line it with a rubber pond skin first, and then pour on the rock. Wouldn’t that make a sharp-looking dry creek that’s always ready for a flash flood. It’s called Rainscaping.
There are a lot of images out there depicting some incredibly artistic solutions along these lines. Fifty dry creek ideas right here! But there is one thing missing from all photos I saw: weeds.
If we tried any of those solutions, in a very short time, you wouldn’t be able to see the beautiful rocks through the 3-foot tall weeds that would happily take root.
Maybe there’s a happy medium in there somewhere. I’m thinking I need grass to grow to hold soil in place, or rocks. How about grass and rocks?
It would be a hassle to mow, though.
Back to reality. The rocks to cover the distances I need would be an awful strenuous effort to accomplish, in addition to the cost of having them delivered. Grass seed is something I can afford and plant easily myself.
It doesn’t cost anything to dream. I like picturing the possibilities. In the mean time, I am stuck looking at the ongoing and frustrating erosion that has had the better of me for the last five years.
I want to work on making my peace with that.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Rainy Results
One day later, with the sun shining brightly, I surveyed the results of our crazy mid-summer type of thundershower in October. As I drove in the driveway after work, I could see right away from the car that the grass was laid flat below the culvert.
There was a clear impression of how wide the little runoff river rose after the deluge.
Our rain gauge collected over an inch from Monday night’s dramatic evening cloud burst, and that was on top of a previously accumulated inch that Cyndie had dumped out of the gauge after a drenching earlier that same day.
When we moved to this property, which happened exactly 4 years ago this week, we had no idea the warming climate was going to start dishing out the kind of gully-washing downpours that we have witnessed with increasing regularity each year since.
We have tried a variety of ways to manage the flow —or with regard to the sub-soil, the lack of flow— of water across our land. One trick to reduce the muddiness of our paddocks was the installation of drain tile to help dry out the soil in the springtime, but that didn’t do much to help with the immediate surface runoff of heavy downpours.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Pouring rains rush down our slopes and carve a multitude of rills around the paddocks below the barn. Dezirea surveyed the sad scene with me yesterday and agreed it kinda sucks.
The geography of our property makes this a difficult thing to prevent, especially since both the frequency and intensity of rainfall have continued to increase since we arrived.
Water will always find a path downhill. The hilly features that we adore so much about this property are also the cause of our erosion problems. We want water to drain from our land, but we would like it to depart with a lot less energy, …preferably leaving all our precious lime screenings behind.
That’s hard to accomplish when the clouds repeatedly unleash inch amounts in spans as short as mere minutes.
Maybe we should look into terracing the paddocks and turning them into rice paddies. Do they make rubber boots that fit horses?
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Failure Happens
We received 3-and-a-half inches of rain in the storm that hit this region on Tuesday evening. With reports warning of wind gusts between 60 and 70 mph, we were a bit anxious about what might happen when the full force arrived. Luckily, we did not experience any loss of trees from that high of wind, but the paddocks have the makings of a couple new canyons shaped by the heavy rain.
While cleaning up manure, I came across evidence of a failure I had been suspicious of for some time. The drain tube that was buried from the barn gutter to the main drainage swale has made its way up to the surface. There is no way it can be draining properly.
That helps explain the dramatic runoff that has been occurring from the corner of the barn. It doesn’t really matter that I cleaned out the bird’s nest from the down spout when the drainage tube the spout is connected to is plugged somewhere down the line.
After work yesterday, I disconnected the down spout from the tube that leads underground and rigged up an above-ground series of tubes as a temporary solution for protecting the paddock from erosion.
I don’t know what I would do different, but the failure of that buried tube reveals a flaw in our plan. Once again I am reminded of how fluid (as opposed to static) the “solid” ground actually is. Buried things don’t tend to stay buried around here.
Each spring farmers find new rocks sprouting in their plowed fields. Those rocks aren’t falling from the sky. They are pushed up from below, just like that section of my drainage tube that now protrudes above the surface.
I probably won’t ever succeed in preventing erosion from runoff of heavy rains, but I would sure like to reduce and confine it as much as possible. My next idea will involve a way to capture the water running off the roof into a giant barrel of some kind.
Then I just need to figure out what to do with the overflow from that vessel whenever it fills up.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Wish Granted
Pretty much from the very first day that we assembled the fence panels of the round panel, Cyndie has been wanting sand on the ground in there. We are darn close now. She’s got sand, finally, just not quite enough.
Our source of lime screenings for our paddock, and sand for the round pen, is an excavating company that delivers by dump truck. Yes, that’s the very same company that did the initial damage to our paved driveway over 2 years ago with their heavy truck.
We’ve gotten over that, and the driveway, intentionally neglected ever since, has reached a point where further heavy traffic on it doesn’t seem to make any significant difference. The paddock, on the other hand, suffers quite an impression from the heavily loaded truck.
To save money, and because the excavators don’t have time, we opted to do the spreading ourselves. Their truck can fit through two of our gates to get close to the round pen, but not through the last one, so he dumps it just short of the target.
I was able to leave the day-job early yesterday and quickly jumped onto the tractor seat for my exercise in frustration. It isn’t quite as bad as I make it out to be, because I do move a lot of sand in a reasonable amount of time, but I just haven’t mastered the art of getting that big machine to do exactly what I want, when I want.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
There’s a lot of physics involved when you add a full load in the bucket on the front, which causes the tractor to handle in mysterious ways sometimes. I have a penchant for spinning my wheels more than I like. That ends up creating divots of my own, which I then repeatedly roll into in the process of scooping up subsequent loads. That complicates my attempts to adjust the height of the bucket when approaching to pick up a load, as the up and down of the front wheels alters the level of the bucket.
Repeatedly, in my attempts to scrape the bottom of the pile off the top of the ground, I ended up digging down into the paddock dirt, when all I wanted was sand from the pile. It wreaks havoc on a person’s perfectionism, I tell ya.
With Cyndie’s help on some ground work, I got the bulk of the pile moved inside the pen. It still needs to be spread out better in there, but the pile has been cleared out enough that there is room for them to drop another load that is needed to finish the job.
After that, I moved on to distribute a pile of lime screenings that had been dumped right inside the gate of the paddock. We needed additional lime screenings to fill in the rills that the rain has created on the slope beyond the barn roof. I had to get that pile moved to make room for the dump truck to back in again toward the round pen with a second load of sand.
If we can get that to happen, Cyndie will have the rest of her wish finally granted, and the horses will finally have a layer of sand to do laps on in the round pen. It’s turning out just like we planned!
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Peaceful Here
Today is the 4th of July and right now I am basking in the leisurely luxury of a lazy Saturday morning with Delilah asleep on the floor under the dining room table and the hazy low sunrays painting everything in orange hues through the smoky white sky that we’ve been experiencing for days. Cyndie has departed in her red convertible for Hayward to be with her family for the traditional holiday games at their lake community home. I’m back on duty as Wintervale manager for the weekend.
I’ve chosen Bruce Cockburn to accompany me while I write this morning, and am thoroughly enjoying a throwback to 1977 in his live recording, “Circles in the Stream.” I recently rediscovered this old favorite of mine on iTunes due to a gift my son, Julian gave me for Father’s Day/Birthday. That fact makes listening to this seem even sweeter, regardless that it is a digital version playing through a small speaker attached to my laptop and not the vinyl version through the Marantz amp and huge stereo speakers of my youth.
Yesterday was a fantastic mix of accomplishment and leisure on a Friday that felt entirely like a Saturday to me. We received a visit from an acquaintance who we met on the day in 2013 when our horses arrived. Jim saw we had no way to move large bales of hay and offered to help get a custom rig built for our New Holland tractor. Almost two years later and the project is just now coming close to being accomplished, even though we no longer have a pressing need. It’s one of the funnier stories that have evolved in this odyssey of transition to our country life.
After his visit, my plan to start mowing was further delayed by a much-anticipated visit from our excavator, Mike, who showed up in record time —one day after we spoke on the phone!— to re-level the Ritchie waterer that had settled unevenly in the time since it was installed. He was able to offer valuable consultation about bringing in sand for our round pen and the future leveling of the space we have designated for an arena. He makes it all sound so easy, it is inspiring!
It has become clear to me that the installation of a gutter on our barn was done in such a way to be as least effective as possible. It is probably too small, it is not spaced out far enough, and it is too low. Oh, and the down spout is probably too small. Other than that, is has worked okay when it isn’t raining much. Both Jim and Mike pointed out these details in our consultations yesterday.
No wonder we have all these rills being created on the slope from the barn. I just had to throw that in, because I just learned the word, “rills” from Mike. He suggested I keep a spare pile of lime screenings nearby to use for filling washouts after heavy rains. Or I could get the gutter fixed. I’d like to do both.
I eventually got to the mowing and Cyndie picked berries and pulled weeds. Late afternoon, we enjoyed a surprise visit from friends who were out exploring backcountry roads on their motorcycles. The dew point temperature was comfortable in the 50s (F) and the evening was idyllic in a way that rejuvenated our desires to generate momentum toward this place becoming a destination for those seeking solace and inspiration for their lives.
“It’s so peaceful here,” Jeff said.
Yes. It is.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Relative Something 