The Dynamic Duo

My sister in law is a genius;, a bit of an evil genius, as it turns out, though I doubt it is intentional. I, on the other hand, am an idiot. I would like to claim a ‘savant’ at the end, but as I am not consistently, brilliantly good at any one or two things, I cannot, in good conscience, do so.
Pat is gone on a much anticipated and much deserved vacation to Florida to see her daughter and grandchildren. And so, it falls to my lot to care for her pets and yard while she is away. Now, I really don’t mind doing this. Pat does so much for me that I could do this for a year and not come close to evening the balance. But graciously and stoically doing the job, without whining and complaining is just not my style, and makes for boring posts, n’est-ce pas?
The dogs, this time, are really a piece of cake. Sister-in-law Kathy took the potential problem dogs home with her; the remaining seven all stay in the yard like good dogs. Likewise, feeding the two cats and caring for the fish: nothing to it. So what has got me all wound up? The yard, that’s what!
Before she left, Pat had me come over so she could go over watering instructions with me. We walked around her acres as she showed me numerous hoses, sprinklers, soaker hoses, hydrants and trees, shrubs and flowers. In two separate areas are three separate soaker hoses. The main hose must be attached to a different soaker each day. The new bushes in the front cannot be allowed to dry out. The explanations were quite general, mostly instructing me to “water it if it’s dry.”
I stopped again the night before she was catching the plane. “I’m not sure I can remember how that soaker hose change works,” I said uncertainly. “Maybe you could write that part down.” Pat is aware of my limitations. Her headings were “junk” and “horses” to denote what was on the other side of the fence in the different locales. She then wrote days of the week, and listed what was supposed to be getting watered each day. Actually, now that I had a guide, it didn’t seem so bad.
I did fine on the ‘junk’ side. The soakers were quite near their hydrant and easy to find. But I almost gave up the first day I had to change the “horse” hoses. After pacing up and down the fence line for about 20 minutes, I finally located the convergence of the hoses and got it changed. The next day, I did the exact same thing, and have finally wised up. There is now a dog-toy stuffed monkey I found in the vicinity, in a nearby tree. When I spot the monkey, I know I’m close.
It has been unmercifully hot here, and the soil dries out quickly, so if Pat’s 1001 plants are to survive my stay, I’m going to have to set some strategic sprinklers. I don’t know how she keeps up with it; but there are hoses crisscrossed in every direction. Trying to trace one to its source, I find myself comparing this setup to Winchester’s House of Mystery. A hose will suddenly disappear into the thick tangle of clover, not to be seen again. A sprinkler is set, but I am unable to find the correct hydrant to send life-giving water coursing through its hose. I drag the surface hoses here and there, seeking out sprinklers whose nozzles turn correctly and trying to scientifically ascertain the best placement for maximum useful watering. To add to the excitement, there are numerous gopher holes hidden beneath the lush green clover. The pack of dogs, including Murphy and Rowdy who always come along, follow me about, but refuse to give me any real help, although I’m sure they know this stuff far better than I do.
The front yard with new shrubs and lots of flowers and vines, cannot be allowed to dry out. One of the hoses in this locale has an interesting, if a bit scary, appearance. It appears swollen and bloated in several places, rather like a black snake that is swallowing a mouse, or a guinea pig. It seems it got too hot in the sun or something; anyway I’ve never seen anything like it. For the first couple of days, it works great, but lately the water flow has been reduced to a trickle. I examined the length of the hose for kinks, but all seems to be clear. But when I hold the end of this hose, I can feel it gurgling and vibrating like there is something in there that badly wants to come out. There are a couple of things that come to mind: either the guinea pig is still alive, or the water flow is trying to work its way around said ‘pig’, being digested in the bowels of the monster hose-snake.
Inside the house are evidences of further mystery: the window air conditioner has no discernible means turning it on; the telephone answering machine has no obvious means of listening to messages. The quantity of oreos on the table is diminishing day by day.

. And so, Pat, my hat is off to you. Not only is your yard full of beautiful and interesting flora (and fauna, I guess), but you have also mastered a watering system more complicated and problematic than the roman aqueducts and viaducts. But don’t mind me; really I’ll be okay. It’s just a good thing you remembered to leave me plenty of cookies.

Hydra-challenged UltraMom