Wet and Wetter

One of the great things about living in a more rural than suburban area is that I feel very comfortable telling the girls to go outside and play. I don't worry that the ball is going to go rolling out into the street and they'll be mowed down by a passing Eclipse. Instead, they go out and bounce the ball around until it lands in the creek.

This weekend, the ball finally landed in the creek. It was really only a matter of time until it happened, so the only people surprised by it were the girls. Peaches started to go after it and Aoibheall had to tell her repeatedly that the ball was gone, there was no way Peaches was going to get it back, and just leave it alone and get away from the creek already!

The next day, around lunchtime, I spied the ball heading toward the slow bend at the end of the gabion wall. Quickly, I put on shoes, trotted downstairs, grabbed a hoe and clambered down to the creek. Last summer, I'd made it all along the rock wall to the edge of our property on that side, and I reckoned I could get there and reach the ball. I actually made it, hooking the ball without falling into the creek. The problem was, I needed at least one free hand to make it back, and I was too far away to hurl the ball (or, indeed, the hoe) back up to our yard.

I settled for throwing the ball upstream, hoping to put it in the still water next to the wall where I might be able just to reach over and get it. I made it most of the way and then, a couple feet short of where I needed to be on the wall, my foot slipped and I stepped in the creek. At that point, it's about 3 feet deep. I figured, "Oh well, I'm wet now; might as well just get the ball." I waded over and picked it up.

Then I went inside and took a shower, because man, that creek water is nasty. Not so nasty as, say, Venice canal water, but still. Gross.

I also got nettle stung in spite of being careful about whacking the nettles out of the way, and my left hand and arm tingled for a day.