Rainwater maths

Since we hooked the tanks up to the guttering, 77 mm of rain has fallen, which has filled the first tank to 3/4 of its height.  Given that the tanks are 22700 litres in capacity, that means the 77mm rainfall has given us 17062 litres of water. So, each mm of rain falling on our roof gives us approx 221 litres of water (not a bad deal). Our annual water consumption is 195,803 liters (well it was last year). Annual average rainfall in this area is 1793 mm, which should offer us a potential 396,253 litres per annum. Theoretically, that is: at times, the tanks will overflow. But in general, we should have enough storage, unless we hit a very dry spell.

Here below is an image of the impact of the last 77mm of rainfall on our local river, the Wilson River at Eltham.  Not unusually, it's risen by about 3 metres.

The cats get the best seats in the house?

An evening scene on a cold winter's night. Our wood burning stove is the source of heat (and we cook on it too quite often). The chairs are drawn in closer, Yarrow is reading a book on the floor in front of the fire (she's reading "Little Women" for school). Sunny and Inkling are in the best chair (got to feel sorry for Inkling with his leg in plaster), our 'new' cat Minnie - who we inherited due to the marital separation of our good friends Julie and Trevor - is on the wooden chair. She's still a bit wary of the other two, but that will improve. John's successfully solving the crossword with the help of his porter gaff.

You can just see a bit of the new skirting boards and architraves that I have mounted around the room. I love the rich warm colour of the native teak floorboards.

A homely scene :-)

It never rains but it pours :-) ... which is positive news in this case

Things are looking up :-)

John and I are getting out of the dip :-))). Mam's recovering (though it has taken a heavy toll); Pap's getting used to his new medicines; Anoush is home again from her long stay in the hospital in Melbourne; Marc is also out of hospital, has cheered up and has a new girlfriend (possibly the best thing for him). Our cat Inkling has a cast on his leg, and we might not have to have his leg amputated after all.

I'm climbing back up the hill of merriness and the sun should start shining again...



But wait! The sun isn't shining: it's absolutely pouring outside and I'm DELIGHTED! This is because John and I have connected the house to the huge new water tanks with stormwater pipes, polypipe, and other paraphernalia (I built a pumphouse for the pump too) ...  and I can hear the sweet sweet sound of liquid gold H2O pouring into the tanks. The first tank is already half full (so that's 11,350 litres of water in a little over 24 hours). We still need to connect a few things and get a plumbing approval arranged but we're nearly ready to harvest our own water. Just in time for the government and council rebates :-)


See the snazzy expandable linkage that John designed and built between the two tanks? That's to allow expansion and contraction of the tanks depending on how much water they contain. Clever hey  ....

The little pumphouse is made entirely of recycled materials and allows the pump to be accessed and receive maximum airflow without it getting wet during downpours.

It never rains but it pours? :-(

Seriously, for a while there things were not looking very bright... All manner of things went amiss, amok, awry, adrift. I was sad for a while ... which is why I wasn't blogging very much.

In a nutshell: my father was in hospital; then my mother went to hospital for a minor operation which went wrong and she nearly died; my brother Marc in Amsterdam was terribly ill as well as distraught for very real reasons; my sister Anoush suddenly had to have major back surgery. My relationship with my darling John was going through a dip, which grieved me muchly :'-( ... and our young cat Inkling got hit by a car (miraculously survived, phew). On a more minor note, the header tank at the top of the property collapsed, which besides losing our water, crushed the tank beyond repair.

My life felt like this poem, which I recall reading in a book by Spike Milligan:

Since I hurt my pendulum
My life is all erratic.
My parrot, who was cordial,
Is now transmitting static.

The carpet died, a palm collapsed,
The cat keeps doing poo.
The only thing that keeps me sane
Is talking to my shoe.