No amount of rain dances has worked this summer to open the skies over Long Island, Bahamas. We are now three months into the heat and the cisterns remain empty. The wildflowers are thirsty and the soil dehydrated during a season that is supposed to see torrential downpours that fill up our water storage tanks to get us through the dry winters. The brakes have been out on the fresh water delivery truck for more than a week, the same amount of time our cistern has been dry.
Lucky for this island home, we have an old well on property. Before our electrical hook up, we lowered glass jugs on a rope into the brackish water and hauled them up for daily use: “showers,” dishes and filling the back of the toilet so at least we could use a potty like civilized folk. The water was too salty for drinking, so we had to buy large plastic jugs of distilled water to quench our thirst. Now, with no rain to rely on and a waiting game for our fresh water delivery, it’s back to square one. But this time around, we’re masters at roughing it.
Our clothes are dirty, our sheets need washing, the dirty dishes are piling up and my hair has a 50% salt component. We may be filthy, but we’re surviving (and the garden is, too!).