Life in Tasmania's Huon Valley, by a blow-in from the mainland
Sunday, December 3, 2017
Can we borrow your ark, please?
It's not quite forty days and forty nights but it's starting to feel like it. On Thursday evening a storm hit, with hail, thunder and lightning (all rare where we live). Since then, it has rained solidly without pause. Throw in some gusts of wind and it's pretty unpleasant out there. No gardening for me this weekend. I've been awake since 3am, listening to rain pelt against the house, worrying how my chickens are faring out in their house where I've left them locked in for the past two days. And the tiny chicks with mother hen out in the chook tractor in the orchard. I've put in some protective shields so they seem OK, although it is very soggy out there.
Our water tank is overflowing, dirt and gravel are washing down the driveway and a large pond has appeared at the corner of our property where there isn't one normally.
We live at 450m above sea level and our neighbours have a boat sitting in the middle of their front yard which always seemed a little optimistic, but it now looks like its in a flowing river. If the water keeps rising, maybe we'll need to borrow it. Do you think they'll mind if we take the dogs?
Escaped Sydney in 2010 for a piece of paradise in Tasmania's Huon Valley. I'm a keen walker, remote worker, incompetent gardener, Bernese Mountain Dog owner, fan of almost anything German (food, language, cars, beer), amateur linguist, chook fancier, childfree.