Life at SoftAcres 01/03/18 - In Winter Comes a Flood and Some History

Well, after 70 days of snow pack, since October 10 (over a month earlier than any year I can remember), winter arrived. And on that first day it was 60 F and it poured rain for a solid 24 hours! The combination of these conditions caused about a foot of snow to melt as well. 

I'd done everything I had time to do before that first snowfall in October to protect against flooding. There was no practical way of getting the inner tent off the bare ground, I'd made sure the frame of the shelter was at least 6 inches off the ground by placing stones strategically under the heaviest parts. Then when the outer tarps were attached, I allowed them to spread out over the ground for at least 36 inches all the way around the perimeter. These were then held down with tight rows of heavy stones. I assumed this configuration would discourage flooding from the outside in the spring melt, while letting any condensation and other accumulated moisture  - if it were to build up to the point of liquid water - seep out. I had good reason to think this would work well, since it was one of the few things that had been successful last year until I abandoned the site and began renting the cabin for that winter's season.

But, you know what they say? "If you want to make global climate change laugh, tell it your latest weather assumptions."

On this rainy day, at about the 20th hour of God's great wrath, and seeing the shadow of Noah's Ark floating by outside, content and proud of being so well protected, I noticed that I felt something cold under the gold speckled boot liners that I was wearing as slippers. When I finally decided to look down, I saw that the entire carpet was soaked. It was one of those sickening, "this isn't happening, this ISN'T fucking happening..." moments. The small drip of sweat that indicates a sudden hypertensive moment of dread, slowly, teasingly slithered down my forehead, then off the tip of my nose.

I simply could not believe that after all my preparation and other problems I'd solved, my tent was going to flood. I'd run both batteries down during the day, having not been able to get in town that day to charge devices. Now I had to stress the system by turning on my flood light to assess the situation. This caused the over discharge alarm on the inverter to blare its ear piercing whine continuously as I investigated where the water was coming in. 

During this time I turned on the heater to try and evaporate as much moisture as possible. But the humidity was so high that, essentially, the roof of the tent began to drip. It was raining outside and inside now, and the heater only added to the already warm air, bringing the temperature up to 85 F. By the time I'd figured out most of what had allowed this disaster, I could have begun growing tropical plants.

At that point, it was just all about salvaging as much as I could of what rested on the floor. It was mostly books--including my five inch thick book of original handwritten lyrics to all my songs since 1982, but also some clothes and other items. I placed extra plastic shopping bags under the stuff that would have to go back on the floor.

From that point on things decelerated. The rain tapered and I pulled out some sandals to wear so my feet wouldn't get wet, I turned off the power and resigned myself to wearing them for the next few weeks as the floor dried.

* * *

The events above happened several weeks ago, but I hadn't had the chance to report it until now. The following are some images from the intervening weeks...

I went to the town library to see if I could find anything that might show me who the original owner of my land was. Although it was said to be located off Staples Road (a discontinued town road), now a private way, and running a quarter mile out through a hay field, property officially abuts the little woods road that connects from the field and runs all the way over the mountain and down to Bailey Farm on the other side. The name of this very old road is Cook Road. In a Town Record from 1927 I located the lot area and it said cook, so I looked up the names of Farmington residents, and three Cook families were listed. I knew the first two weren't applicable. One belonged to a different lot and the other was near the falls (my lot is on a mountain).

So anecdotally it must be Charles P. Cook, listed as a farmer, with his wife Hattie (maiden name, Crocker), son Wallace F., daughter Lena V. (both listed as pupils), and little son Charles N. (presumably preschool)...

Farmington Town Records, 1927. Possible original land owner, Charles P. Cook.

This is the strongest evidence I have yet for the original land owner. I have a whole bunch of 1930's household items that I found by my front stone wall. I want to know why, in the middle of four surrounding 60-100 acre lots, my little 3 acre lot is left. It also is arguably in the nicest spot, being near the top of the mountain (actually more like a large hill, Perham Hill, elevation 700 ft.). It is where the two dairy families' fields meet. And it does have a killer view of the mountains to the west. The sunset in the next picture will occur all the way over on the right side in 6 months...

Looking in the other direction (east) we see my land. It was once a small farm, with hardly any of those trees around...

I believe the original house was about 30 feet over to the right of the shelter.

Now I'll show you what I did to hopefully fix the leaky floor situation. There is a low point along the back edge. It had snow packed up about 3 feet against the shelter. This meant that rain dribbled down the edge of the shelter and melted the snow that was touching it. This made about twice as much water as a regular rain would bring. So, I shoveled the snow away...

I made a trench along the back of the shelter for future rain.

I then tacked a piece of tarp along the back, angled out to lessen the amount of snow that could touch the shelter. We'll see how it looked in a moment, with the next snow storm.

This guy always buzzes my property and it pisses me off.

Sunset, looking southwest across the hayfield as I walk back to my land from town.

That night was an additional, heavy 3 inches. It was strange the next morning to see fog everywhere. Fog is very rare, because usually there is some kind of breeze. But the night had been windless, and the morning air was warm...

A rare foggy morning after a snowfall.

Here you can see that there is an angled piece attached to the back of the shelter, to deflect snow.

I walked into town. My heart was feeling a bit worse each time I went into town. Soon I would get a respite by property sitting up at the same cabin I'd spent last winter renting. But for now, I just endured the walk back, and the pain of the big hill going up to my street...

Five pennies on the storefront window.

My favorite grocery store in town, Tranten's. Best meat prices in the county.

Nice folks working there too.

When I got home, I immediately trudged out into the woods to gather some birch bark for a fire starter and found some chaga mushrooms on the tree I had taken down some months ago...

I made a nice fire and kept myself warm throughout the evening. I needed the ash to spread on my paths for when they get icy, and I also keep some clean charcoal to filter my melted water. Although the day had been overcast, I caught some orange at the end, and it matched nicely with the orange of my fire in the opposite direction...

I had a beer, and one of my extra frosty glasses held it perfectly. The temperature continued to fall as my fire also burned low, and my beer began to freeze. I really winter here. I could go without the rain though. Regardless, most days are lovely, if cold. There is always plenty of water available in the form of snow. For now the path in was walkable. Although this would be a problem later, it would just be another challenge to be resolved, and it would be.

Ultra frosty beer, with a chunk of chaga to add to my collection.