Years ago, whoever farmed this land built a wall of sorts to protect the bank of this small, spring-fed creek and an old, stone lined farm well that once stood nearby. In time, the stones tumbled and many washed away or were taken for use elsewhere.
The section that still stands does its job well, but beyond there the water spreads and carries debris from the woods and gravel the road above, and still more debris from the large forested acreage beyond that drains through this small waterway.
Floodwaters covered this area and scoured a new channel that drained across the driveway so that every new rainstorm sent more water through here. After, standing water would kill the grass, and there were rocks to move, piles of sand carried over from the creekway, and sodden logs.
During a rare dry spell, the genius husband got the tractor out and started digging out the channel. He took out a strip of fence, then drove right into the water.
He spent hours scooping out the gravel and debris that had washed downstream and blocked the original channel.
And he didn’t get the tractor stuck.
I wouldn’t have risked it. I’ve had bad luck with mud.
By day’s end, the worst of the job was finished. It looked a muddy mess, but the water flowed where it should, following the old channel to its proper crossing. We’ll bring stones from other spots to line the banks and spread seed that hopefully will take hold and grow enough vegetation to keep the banks from washing away anytime soon. In reasonable weather, the plan should work.
What’s ever reasonable about Mother Nature, though?
