Sunday, 14 September 2008

Water Everywhere

The rain to the wind said, "You push and I'll pelt." - Robert Frost

And they must have had this conversation today.

The Machinist and son were up at the Shop, erecting a wall, which will one day surround the commercial kitchen of Metalsmithery Cafe. I was on the sofa, wearing the Machinist's dressing gown (which I bought for him and which he has never worn) watching a makeover: home edition show on tv. It was the second day of feeling out of sorts and my mind was spinning with thoughts on what had to be done. You know how it is - you try and rest and not think about work or washing dishes, or putting another load of laundry on, but pictures of you actually performing these tasks stubbornly remain in the cinema of your mind's eye. Then you feel obliged to re-enact them in 'real life'.

Before I got up from the sofa, the howling began. In the distance, I could hear a loose piece of corrugated iron fence, flapping against a wooden post as it submitted to the wind's fury. It wasn't long before the rain came. I had to fight the temptation of sitting back down again, while pulling the chocolate-brown, fluffy blankie over me.

But.... I knew. I knew I had to go and check the Machine Shop. Our small country town, although situated in the Tablelands, can cope with days and days of rain, but when the rain comes down fast and furious, the stormwater drains overflow very quickly, and being on the lower side of the street next to the creek, the Machine Shop always floods with the surplus. It takes at least two people to sweep the water out of the workshop and into the drain, and they have to do it fast.

I shut the puppies in my office (with the heater on) and started to remove some jobs the Machinist had left near the sliding door. I heard voices. The Machinist and son had returned. Yay! They had suspected the workshop was flooding. I graciously left them to the sweeping and retreated to the office to comfort the puppies who are both scared of thunder. (I just had to console them!).

The rain pelting loudly on the tin roof didn't last long. The sun was trying to shine, too. Suddenly, the silence was broken by the phone ringing.

"Ok, I'll come up now", assured the Machinist and put the phone back in it's cradle.

"I've got to go up to the Grands. Water is bucketing into their kitchen..."

After Grandpa, the Machinist and Son had mopped the kitchen floor, and I had mopped the kitchen benches, I decided to hang around and help the Machinist by passing him the last few screws for the villaboard at the Shop.

"A girl can't even rest on her sickbed", I mused. The Machinist smiled.

"I'm so glad I picked a strong girl like you, Helen...."

No comments: