Gravity

A water main broke on the street today.

I've been watering and watering, Trudy said when I got home, bucket in hand, sweat on her brow, gazing wistfully at the clear running stream running past our yard, gesturing to the satisfied bushes and flowers in the yard.

It's kind of like waterfront property. Too bad we don't have a pump.

And we look at the thirsty bushes down the hill by the house and then over at the hoses lying idle in the grass.

We take those hoses and connect them together. We lay them in the water and watch bubbles run out of the downstream end. And I put my thumb over the end when the air bubbles stop and slowly walk with the hose from the curb down the hill past the bushes[*] around the corner past blooming crepe myrtle thru the gate into the backyard. And we lay the hose down in the grass, where the water resumes its flow, where it will flow all night long.

We had a pump after all.

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[*] The bushes aren't as thirsty as the pine tree in the back.

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