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To give a little backstory first, my grandfather has been a farmer his entire life just like his father was before him. One of the problems with farming in certain parts of the Midwestern United States is that the land there used to be a giant swamp.
This means that anywhere from mild to much more serious flooding is common in certain low-lying areas and that they often have too much water for their crops instead of not enough. Stagnant pools of water are also a great place for mosquitoes to lay their eggs, so one must take note of that as well unless you want to become dinner for thousands of tiny little bloodsuckers.
Drainage pipes are one modern solution to this problem. My grandfather’s land is filled with them wherever he notices that he has too much water.
This is the tale of the white drainage pipe and the kids who protected it.
When my brothers and I were little, Grandpa installed a drainage pipe in his side yard. This was a little uncommon as most of his pipes were in his fields or by his barns in order to keep his crops and tools from being flooded out.
It was not a complicated job, but it was something that my siblings found fascinating. We were allowed to stand a safe distance away and observe part of the process. I have vague memories of it being muddy as they dug.
After the pipe had been placed and covered over with dirt and grass seeds again, Grandpa gave my brothers a very solemn and important assignment.
Every time we came over to visit, they were to pour a little water in one end of the pipe and make sure it flowed out the other end into a nearby creek.
Some kids might have forgotten this duty after a time or two, but my siblings were not among them. Every time we visited, they would pour a little cup of water into the pipe and then we’d race down the hill with a nearby grownup to ensure grandpa’s pipe wasn’t plugged up.
This went on for multiple visits if my memory is correct. The pipe was always clear, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.
And now I chuckle at the cute memory and creative way to encourage the grandkids to burn off some energy and feel included before going indoors into our grandparents’ home.
(This post was edited to include a few family pictures I didn’t know existed from this time period. Look how big that ditcher was! And I’d forgotten that I jumped over the ditch).
Thank you to 
Title: Ghosted – A Short Story
I have two words for all of you this week: forbidden romance.
So here’s the thing about spring and my reading habits:
Title: Ghost Coach
hile I do believe people can change for the better in real life, too, it seems to be much more rare than it is in fiction.
This means that if I’ve felt the urge to reread something, I’ve probably already done it.
Title: The Curse of Three (
