Yeah, I could have titled this blog post, "The calm before the storm." Fie on clichés!
The plans are that next week the work will begin on constructing the city sewer line through my front yard. I've heard this tale for five years now. The first couple of years, I was hopeful. I believed the promises. After years of hiking the length of a football field up the steep hill to my home, I've become cynical. I'll believe it when I see the whites of the tractor lights driving into my yard.
Why would I be looking forward to having my front yard torn up by a major construction project? Because, during the installation of the sewer line, what you see below will be repaired.
The plans are that next week the work will begin on constructing the city sewer line through my front yard. I've heard this tale for five years now. The first couple of years, I was hopeful. I believed the promises. After years of hiking the length of a football field up the steep hill to my home, I've become cynical. I'll believe it when I see the whites of the tractor lights driving into my yard.
Why would I be looking forward to having my front yard torn up by a major construction project? Because, during the installation of the sewer line, what you see below will be repaired.
That is what is left of my driveway after a big rainstorm some years back. You can see the uninsulated, high-voltage power line (7200 volts) and the pipes that carry the water from our well to our home hanging in the air. By God's grace, and His grace only, they were not damaged by the six-foot wall of raging water that tossed cinder blocks and large logs like rubber ducks.
At first, we thought that we would repair this ourselves. Ah, I was so naïve. I remember when the biologist from the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife stood in my front yard and told me that she expected the repair I would perform in my front yard would be "like what DOT did at Johnson Road and 305." Shall I give you a bit of background on that? It was a 3.8 million-dollar project that took months of round-the-clock work. My sons thought there were giants in the land as we listened to the intense booms from the pipe-jacking that shook our entire home throughout the night hours. So, does it surprise you that I thought Ms. Piazza was joking? I laughed. Her eyes narrowed, and I realized I had just made one of the biggest mistakes of my life. Next, the armed DFW agent ran a criminal background check on me, and my "relationship" with DFW had begun.
I will spare you all the sordid details of my rocky dealings with government officials over the big hole in my front yard. I stopped talking about it after a while. I got tired of people asking me, "Is your driveway fixed yet?" (as if coming up with a cool couple million in greenbacks is no trouble for the average working-class family). And then there was the comment by the women's ministry leader at Poulsbo Community Church, "Get over it Melinda; It's just a driveway." I've learned my lesson about compassion from "Christians."
Instead, I will enjoy the few days I have left of quiet and peace (there's a Maciej-ism) before the incessant beeping of tractor back-up alerts begins. It is rainy today. All of the neighbors are hunkered down inside their homes. All I hear is the tinkling of raindrops on the gutter above the window where I perch and enjoy the lovely view of my farm and the tree-covered hills above Suquamish.
P.S. I would like to thank the following people for working with me on this problem : Mayor Becky Erickson of the City of Poulsbo, Mark Kuhlman of Team 4 Engineering, City Engineer Andrzej Kasiniak, and Corey Watson of Quadrant Homes.
At first, we thought that we would repair this ourselves. Ah, I was so naïve. I remember when the biologist from the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife stood in my front yard and told me that she expected the repair I would perform in my front yard would be "like what DOT did at Johnson Road and 305." Shall I give you a bit of background on that? It was a 3.8 million-dollar project that took months of round-the-clock work. My sons thought there were giants in the land as we listened to the intense booms from the pipe-jacking that shook our entire home throughout the night hours. So, does it surprise you that I thought Ms. Piazza was joking? I laughed. Her eyes narrowed, and I realized I had just made one of the biggest mistakes of my life. Next, the armed DFW agent ran a criminal background check on me, and my "relationship" with DFW had begun.
I will spare you all the sordid details of my rocky dealings with government officials over the big hole in my front yard. I stopped talking about it after a while. I got tired of people asking me, "Is your driveway fixed yet?" (as if coming up with a cool couple million in greenbacks is no trouble for the average working-class family). And then there was the comment by the women's ministry leader at Poulsbo Community Church, "Get over it Melinda; It's just a driveway." I've learned my lesson about compassion from "Christians."
Instead, I will enjoy the few days I have left of quiet and peace (there's a Maciej-ism) before the incessant beeping of tractor back-up alerts begins. It is rainy today. All of the neighbors are hunkered down inside their homes. All I hear is the tinkling of raindrops on the gutter above the window where I perch and enjoy the lovely view of my farm and the tree-covered hills above Suquamish.
P.S. I would like to thank the following people for working with me on this problem : Mayor Becky Erickson of the City of Poulsbo, Mark Kuhlman of Team 4 Engineering, City Engineer Andrzej Kasiniak, and Corey Watson of Quadrant Homes.
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