Ciao dearest Friends of Hive and Homesteading Enthusiasts!
We have running water!
The thrill of suddenly having running water, after two months on our glorious new homestead, is utterly deliziosa.... We've (
and I) had rather a circuitous route to having a water supply, and with good reason: as most homesteaders should agree, it is a far better long-term solution to our water requirements to be connected to a thriving natural spring, than to a city (i.e. chlorinated, etc) and metered (paid for) water supply. We waited it out, and today unwrapped our Great Gift from God, of flowing water to our property.
When we first got to the property, we were shown a pozzo that was dry. This was nearing the end of a rather excessive drought, though, and so it did not seem like much of an issue. There was an abundant natural fountain within a couple of hundred metres, and another further down the hillside: they both had such lush, cool ever-flux of fresh water, so it really wasn't the biggest problem we saw meeting us if we bought the land...
...Until the very day after we arrived on the property two weeks later, when we saw that the ever-fountain had been turned off!! It took us some investigation to comprehend why, and whether or not it would be permanent; turned out that there were a few properties way down in the valley whose water had run dry, and they were prioritised over the community fountains.
We discussed this issue with myriad folks, including the ex-owner of our land, and every one of them retorted that it was no problem: just make a request for water with the Comune, get a meter installed, and you'll be fine! Hmmm. But the spring is natural and free, and we don't want to begin a new homestead under the jurisdiction of local govern-ment nonsense!! So we began a lengthy period of fetching water from further afield.
Which was fun at first, with the beautiful second fountain - the place where we first met up with our ex-proprietario friend - we happily brought all our bottles down the couple-of-minutes' drive to the gushing fountain down the hill.... Until it too was shut off! Just a couple of weeks of relative ease, having access to as much as we needed, relatively closely. Now we had to choose between 'machine' water (a dispensing contraption on the other side of the mountain), a public tap next to it (with chlorinated city water)... Or, a longer drive up to the top of the mountain, where we could access fresh spring water, via a very stiff tap.
We chose the latter, of course, whilst continuing to take advantage of any other natural springs that were still open in the zone - not many in the latter weeks of the drought. But even when the rains returned sporadically, the fountains stayed closed, and so our water-gathering continued to be a tad effort-full.
Then there was the organisation of the water - in extremely hot weather and with no fridge or anaerobic tank of any kind; we've been using an outside 80 litre-or-so barrel, for washing dishes and lately showering. A solar shower of 20 litres, with a wonky handle which kept falling off and getting lost in the lush undergrowth. Myriad buckets to catch rainwater. A couple of large plastic containers to carry water between fountain, car and house. And a nice Belky water filter. A tad fiddly, with water getting stagnant quickly, and hot in the outside tank (meaning it cannot be used for drinking water).
We continued to observe how water falls on our land, and realised quickly that the old well is no longer likely to be viable. We began to map out long-term ideas about water sufficiency - and about any water we might be able to scavenge!
The eldery neighbour who comes once a day to feed his chickens and 'country cats', offered us to use his water tap - we took advantage of this a few times, but were wondering if his supply was either metered and/or came from the city. We could see a tube coming from the direction of the "Vecchia Fontana", and eventually realised - talking to our neighbours below us on this sparsely-populated hillside - that these handful of properties over this side of the mountain were all joined directly to the old fountain. They all kept running with ample supply, even as the water was being redirected to the valley floor.
Throughout the experience, I was clear that we would only ever join a 'mains' water supply as a very last resort, and only temporarily - until we could install the infrastructure for our own rainwater harvesting, and store it efficiently and securely. I continued to pray for running water, and to have it coming to us freely, in every sense.
This morning, our anziano neighbour shouted us outside: Giovanotto! and we both assumed he'd be telling us off about our crazy young people ways.... Between me translating, him being mostly deaf, and the two of us following his gestures and dialect gruffness - he insisted we open up the heavy concrete cover and "just open the tap". Okay, we said - very loudly, so he could hear us!
As the morning progressed we decided to attempt it, though: it seemed initially unmoveable - we persevered for an hour or so, trying to break the seal which appeared to be holding the lid, and/ or the entire upper section, solidly in position. We got out all the tools in our possession; just one of my oldest screwdrivers was able to run along the edges, once we'd cleared a thick layer of couchgrass, nettles, malva...
We eventually un-cemented the central 'handle' and levered it excessively for a good 20 minutes, to no avail. The tiny bit of movement I could feel in the whole top of the cement box, gave us optimism, and in the end we pulled the whole thing off - separating the actual inner lid from it later.
Inside were no taps! ðŸ¤ðŸ¤ª
Just a load of soil, and several scorpione!
So we started digging, whilst ruminating on how long it had taken the worms to fill the space almost to the brim. Another half hour of gathering up the beautiful thick rich humus of the worm castings, and four buckets later we reveal the taps! No meter, just two lovely simple taps, one long one, one short one; the latter evidently ours.
As I positioned our biggest black barrel under the thick black tube that exits the cement box and enters our downstairs rooms next to the first cantina window, I'm holding my breath with the anticipation.... Vincent wrestles the wee red tap... and a brief moment of tense anticipation after....
A great gushing stream of water crashes happily into the barrel below it!!
The next day we have a lovely trip down to the valley floor to buy a tap, so we have a "main" tap inside (which will eventually become a central junction for our household water system). It was a momentous occasion, setting the tap in place, and kind of ceremonially returning the lid of the cement box, the surrounding edges reordered neatly.
