Various Veins
Article content
To keep the record of my family history correct, if you are a reader who saves my pieces look at the report on the Straffordville United Church Anniversary, find the line about my great grandfather, change paternal to maternal. He was my mother's grandfather. My paternal great grandfather never to my knowledge left Ireland.
Thanks to a sharp-eyed reader for drawing this, I'd like to say typo but honesty prevails, it was a moment of senility.
Magnolias have been adorning yards here in Sandytown. A deluge, a genuine gully-washer, knocked a lot of the petals off last Wednesday afternoon. It didn't penetrate my basement wall which suggests David's drainage system along the north side is working. It may only be because the wind was howling from the southwest. Time will tell.
Took a stroll past Sandytown Mall to look for any activity toward reopening the restaurant. A pile of joists and plywood underlay in the entry raised hope.
The corner toward Main Street that's been under reconstruction must be nearly ready to open. The building permit that noted a value beyond my ken has been taken down. One of the workmen told me several weeks ago a doctor is setting up her clinic there. Hope to be able to speak with her and let you know details.
Stopped at Doug's home on my circuit. He was cleaning out the recirculation pump for his fish pond. Technical difficulty, the pump was working fine when he started the job. Now it refuses to push water to the fountain and line to the cascade. It just oscillates from no water to a glug that dribbles out the top and back to no water.
A black storm cloud came roiling across northwest of the village, and Nathaniel checked the weather watch on his cell phone. It said, "STRAFFORDVILLE severe weather advisory." I hied myself across Doug's back garden to my house, saw one lightning bolt off to the northwest beyond the Little Otter Valley. It was a straight line earth to cloud.
Lines from The Finder by Elise Partridge, published in June Walrus speak to my next experience. "...(M)emories in muddy pools / of past years resurface..."
While waiting for the impending storm – it never arrived here – I began to have a deja vu moment. While Doug was on holiday several years ago I was tending his gardens and the fish pond. It began with the image of the oscillating flow and failure to reach pressure.
Yes, I took the pump to the shop in his basement and took screws out to look inside places the label says to leave to the bonafide repair folk. No sign of a valve that might be stuck open. Now what? I rummaged around in the tray of guide books, found the appropriate one, studied the exploded parts diagram. Aha! There it was, a disc shaped bit of plastic with a metal axle. It should be in the tube that leads from the impeller to the attachments.
I found the thing, but where? I seem to recall looking around where ever I'd been while cleaning the filter. Oh, wait! Didn't I try dragging a magnet on a string across the bottom of the pond in hopes the metal axle would be steel and be attracted to the magnet? I think so. I also think the scheme worked. But when the part came above water, the loss of displacement let the thing fall to the bottom again.
Out of the murk of memory came another image, me combing the gunk out of the pond and dropping it into a bucket. I took the bucket to the wooden deck to sift through the stinking slime. Found it!
Doug said he's had the pump apart lots of times without any trouble. That evoked another memory. I wrapped the disk with something, teflon tape maybe, to keep it from dropping out again. Perhaps time and temperature change loosened the thing.
Now Doug's waiting for a stretch of free time long enough to test my story.
Stay posted.