Posts Tagged ‘washout’
Serious Soaking
First, I want to share an image that I received from Cyndie yesterday morning after she read my post. Exhibit A:
She had forgotten to send it earlier, but my description of how Delilah loves rubbing her snout in the snow reminded her.
Just as I predicted, there is very little snow left now. It was very gloomy all day, and rained throughout, but being mostly chained to my desk, I didn’t really notice how much rain actually fell. All I had to go on for what was happening across the state line at home, was the weather radar.
My main concern was over how the thunder might be upsetting Delilah. I wasn’t sure about what hours she might have the company of Anna, our animal sitter who helps out between classes at University of Wisconsin – River Falls. It’s hard to pinpoint the minutes of big thunder claps booming.
I did find the telltale evidence of a throw rug at the deck door pushed up into a pile, indicative of her usual tizzy of “shouting” down the big bully who is threatening us with all that rumbling noise.
From her location and behavior when I walked in the door, I’m guessing she tired of the stormy weather and took refuge in the one place without windows. She didn’t get up until after I walked in –an uncharacteristic behavior– from the rug in a short hallway between bathroom and bedrooms, where she had obviously been sleeping.
The situation at home turned out to be an anti-climax to the alarming sights I witnessed on my drive after passing through River Falls. The whole way from work was wet, but closer to home there must have been an extreme downpour.
Just south of River Falls, I spotted the first epic flooding, where it was pouring over a side road, making it impassable. A short distance later, I noticed a car turning around on an adjoining County road. As my car moved past the intersection, I saw that a highway crew was trying to deal with a missing lane of asphalt that had washed away.
Five miles from home, I cross what is usually a little meandering stream, but the outlines of the banks were completely indistinguishable beneath what was now a giant flowing lake.
The water flowing in ditches looked like raging rivers. I worried about what I might find at home.
Luckily, although there was an abnormal about of water wherever I looked, the damage was minimal.
We now have a pretty significant washout on the path around the back pasture. I’m afraid I will need to resort to a bridge over that gully now, if I want to keep mowing that route with the lawn tractor.
It used to be a slight depression that I could drop into and drive up out of, to keep mowing without interruption. Any attempt to repair the gulf with fill, so I could continue to drive over it, would just get washed away with the next heavy rain.
That spot is calling for a load of field rocks, which then leads me to the plan of needing a bridge for the lawn mower.
Our land is in a constant state of change. I think the rate of change is accelerating due to a certain alteration of the global climate.
It’s intimidating.
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Flashingly Flooded
Tears. I could feel them through the text message I was seeing on my phone. Cyndie was getting a first look at the results of Wednesday’s heavy rains. Her flowering perennial garden had suffered a direct hit from the flood of water that poured onto our property from the farm field to our north.
In my pre-dawn departure for work, I had not noticed the extent of topsoil slop that had washed over our land. The much more obvious evidence I did see, which revealed the significance of overnight flooding, came in the form of field debris coating the roads.
I also spotted the dramatically high level of water overflowing the banks of the small creeks and waterways as I traveled the roads away from home.
Nature’s wrath has little regard for our feeble efforts to confine the actions of our environment.
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Not Again!
When it comes to birds, I don’t know why I thought I might get away with doing nothing about keeping them away, after destroying the first nest I found in the gutter downspout on the barn a week or two ago. I’m noticing a theme the last two days, having to do with my neglect to take timely action.
Washouts!
Regarding the gutter downspout, I actually talked about putting some kind of screen at the opening to the downspout, but just talking about doing it didn’t turn out to be very effective prevention.
I don’t think it rained very hard overnight Sunday, but there was plenty of evidence yesterday morning that the downspout was plugged, because the water overflowed out of the gutter and created washouts in the lime screenings on the ground in the paddock.
We received less than a half-inch of rain in the gauge up by the house, but that was enough water coming off the barn roof to make a significant impact. This is the whole reason why I wanted a drain tube attached to the downspout and buried underground down to the drainage swale outside the paddock.
A downspout nest.
With more rain likely this week, I dared not hesitate another day before doing something about this, so out came the ladder and off went the electric fence, and up in the air I did go to pull screws and dismantle the downspout. I’m proud to report that I thought to bang on the downspout before climbing up the ladder, which chased out the bird that would’ve startled me into a calamitous fall, had I not.
Immediately below the gutter there is an elbow, and then a short, straight section before another elbow. The bird had packed that straight section completely. I assume the little trouble maker must know to get out of there during the rain or it would drown for sure. The water would have filled that first elbow before backing up and overflowing the gutter.
I found some bird netting that Cyndie had used for covering her garden back in Eden Prairie and cut off enough to cover both ends of that first elbow. I will have to keep an eye out for the bird, because I have no idea if this will work or not. I suppose it could decide to just put the nest on top of the elbow at the drain cutout in the gutter, using the netting as a nice starting base.
I know better than to think they won’t try again because the sliding doors on the other end of the barn have a new nest on top of them every day. It doesn’t cause any damage, so I can forget about it for a few days if we don’t open those doors. When we finally do, it generally results in, sadly, the falling of eggs.
At least I never need to fret over cleaning up the messes that result with Delilah around. When she has eggs for breakfast, she eats the shells and all.
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Relative Something 