My grandfather built his house in the fifties. He had two men hand dig his well. At about twelve feet in-depth, the volume of water entering the well was too great and they were forced to stop digging. They set the concrete curbs in place and capped it off.
When my mother and father married, my granddad (owned around forty acres) gave my parents a couple of acres to build on. This plot was right beside my grandparent’s so our houses were close together. Once our house was completed, for whatever reason, we tapped into the same well.
That well has never gone dry and still remains just as productive today still supplying two houses.
The down side to having a well that shallow, every now and again, we had to place a ladder into the hole, climb down and remove tree roots. Once I was of age, guess who this task fell to?
I remember the top of the well fractured and fell into the abyss. Death by blunt trauma entered my mind as I would tie a rope around large chunks of concrete and my father and grandfather would pull them to the surface. I had a vested interest in properly tying the rope as I watched the concrete ascend, knowing that if it slipped from the rope, the next contact it made would be my cranium.
I made it through that experience and continued to drink well water for years to come, never giving a thought to actually paying for water. When bottled water became the “thing,” I thought how ridiculous. Now, to make a long story short, I filter my bottle water…how crazy is that? Please remember that was a rhetorical question and no answers will be accepted.
If you want to find out how crazy I can be, then pick up one of my books and that will give you proof positive. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust and wherever it applies, nuts to nuts.