WATER WATER EVERYWHERE AND NOT A DROP TO DRINK

The importance of something we take totally for granted, water, was brought home to us in a big way this weekend. We had decided to throw a house-warming B-B-Q for our neighbors, the formers owners, now dear friends, and new friends we had made since moving to Virginia.

As usual, I spent the whole day picking up enough food to feed everyone in Goochland County whilst Ed set up the party area in the backyard. When I got back, the Volvo heaved its way up the driveway, completely full of every imaginable ingredient for a cook-out.

Ed was busy hosing off the patio when he called out to me. "Honey, are you running water for something?" In a panic, I ran to the sink and turned on the tap. Nothing!

We were an hour away from the guests arriving and the pump for the well had quit. It had been a terrible month. First the air conditioning quit (5 weeks later we are still waiting for the warranty company to complete the repairs. Note to self: Find new warranty company). The tractor died, as well as the lawnmower, and now the pump. Ed immediately changed the name of the business to "Broke Down Farm," and sank into a deep depression.

Fortunately, we are both in the motion picture business, and ingenuity is the number one skill required to succeed. Ed dragged the water dispenser from the barn. I pulled the dozen gallons bottle of water we had stored in the freezer. I used a little of the precious substance to boil the eggs (no party amounts to anything with out deviled eggs). I poured the boiled water into the sink to wash the dishes. Ed set out every bucket we possessed, and we prayed for rain. Not something you would normally do with 20 people on the way for an outside party. Unfortunately, our prayers to date have not been answered despite the predicted thunderstorms.

The party was anenormous success. Ed and I have a tradition of throwing large parties. In Moorpark, we always held a 4th July party and gradually, over the years, the numbers increased to around 60 people.  With a few exceptions, they were all animal people. Friends I worked with at Animal Rescue Volunteers, Alpaca owners and breeders, dog trainers, staff from the Camarillo Animal Shelter, Vets, and dog lovers. Some people would bring their dogs, so added to the nine we had at the time, it was bedlam.

Exhausted, we sat outside on the veranda enjoying a refreshing evening breeze, but no rain. A smile crept over my face. No water, no washing up!

DRAMATIC RESCUE OF ALPACAS FROM A FEARSOME PREDATOR

The day started quietly enough. Although I am a pretty good cook, I had never attempted baking. As a new member of a country community, I felt that I was somewhat lacking in not be able to put delicious baked goods on my table.  A bunch of ripened bananas hung on the counter and I was inspired. I would make a banana and nut loaf.  In what seemed a ridiculously short time, the batter was in the loaf pan and soon amazing fragrances filled the kitchen. Could it really be this simple, I wondered why I had put this off for so long.

I decided to tackle  the bread machine.  A few attempts had ended in disaster, but I was bound and determined to bake a loaf.  3 hours later a light rye loaf lay on the rack, (actually it been a nightmare to get it out of the pan, so it was rather damaged, but still highly edible).

After Ed and I sat down to eat a delicious pot roast, the clouds started to gather and drops of rain splattered the windows. We immediately headed for the porch.  Since we moved to the farm we have virtually stopped watching TV, preferring to sit and relax on our beautiful veranda as we would say in England. I had splashed out on some really comfortable furniture and it was bliss to sit there in the evening surrounded by green and listening to the cicadas and frogs compete.

The storm quickly turned furious, thunder cracked overhead and the sky lit up like a flashing neon sign. Rain lashed the pastures and Ed decided to check on the Alpacas.
As I looked out into the darkness I saw Ed frantically waving the torch.  I headed down to the front pasture where I saw the girls huddled in a frightened group in the centre of the field. A perfect target for the savage lighting that was striking all around.  Across the street one bolt hit a tree in an orange arc.  It was not a good idea to be out in this storm, but we needed to get the girls to shelter. As rain lashed my face, I shouted to Ed and asked him what they were afraid of. It was the neighborhood cat, a huge orange Tom whom the Alpacas had already identified as a tiger.  Trying to herd Alpacas into a shelter that housed a predator as terrifying as this is no easy task. We ran hither and thither with arms outstretched in the herding pose that only Alpaca owners can identify with, finally as one, they dashed into safety as the cat streaked out the back of the barn in fear of his own life as they thundered in.

Soaked to the skin, we ran back to the safety of our shelter, the porch where it was so cold I had to run up to get a blanket, this when a few days ago it was 115 degrees with the head index. Reveling in the chill, we sat and watched as the storm raged around us, we were lit by candlelight and the flashing sky.