Image by Ilja via FlickrWe have the rainy season..the mornings are hot and sunny and then it pours and thunders in the afternoons.The prudent housewife washes her clothes and bed linen early.
But now we also have depressions over the Caribbean.
Rain all day.
Rain all night.
This house is in the clouds most of the day.
How do I bless the day that I grew up with the old tradition of washing clothes and linen...you had enough in your trousseau to ensure that you would not run out of sheets, shirts and chemises before the six monthly big wash took place.
Washerwomen came round to undertake the task...
After beating the fabrics on stones on the river bank to release the blood, sweat and stains, the spots which were left would be lifted away by the home made soap and the supply of hot water which drove the farm hands frantic with the demands for yet more wood for the fires under the coppers...
I saw the last of that era in my early childhood...by the time I'd grown up the washing machine had taken over, even in the country, and easy care fabrics were all the rage.
But I still hoarded sheets and pillow cases...and I'm glad I did faced with day after day of rain and no prospect of drying things.
My troubles are as nothing compared to those of people in El Salvador, Nicaragua, Honduras and Guatemala...so many deaths, so many homeless as the continual rains produce landslips and mudslides....here in Costa Rica, out of the main blast of the weather system, there have been five deaths so far, evacuations to refuges and the Inter American highway is closed as often as it is open, but the worst thing that has happened locally is that the electricity lines came down, closely followed by the telephone lines.
I felt really sorry for the repair crews, soaked despite their oilskins, trying to replace posts in sodden ground, going from door to door to check on the service.... too busy even to stop for a coffee.
It is not encouraging to go out, so it was lucky that a parcel of books had arrived just before losing the internet...I had plenty to read and plenty of time to do it in as the coffee had been blown to the ground by the storms leaving nothing to pick until the next lot ripens in about a week's time.
By which time I hope that our chief picker has recovered from an insect bite which blew his arm up to five times normal size and sent him to seek attention at the local hospital.
The chickens disapprove and the ducks strongly dispute the claim that rain is 'fine weather for ducks'.
They sit gloomily on the edge of the tilapia tanks, only shifting slightly to release excrement and then resuming the hunched posture of deep misery.
They could go to shelter in their pens...but that would be too easy. They could not express as much resentment that way.
The pig doesn't seem to worry. She turns up in her pen at feeding times, then skids off down the hill again on her quest for roots, startling the cattle as she swooshes by like a four legged downhill skier.
The dogs definitely do not approve.
A dog who has nipped out in a dry moment to answer a call of nature does not appreciate being caught in a downpour before completion of mission and is reluctant to repeat the experiment.
Shut out on the porch until forced to perform before being allowed back in the house is not their idea of life and it won't be long before their shop steward approaches me with the updated canine version of the contract of engagement of seamen on the sailing ships carrying coal from Newcastle to London....
'Duff out, dumpling home
Poop in the cabin foul weather'.....
But I still hoarded sheets and pillow cases...and I'm glad I did faced with day after day of rain and no prospect of drying things.
My troubles are as nothing compared to those of people in El Salvador, Nicaragua, Honduras and Guatemala...so many deaths, so many homeless as the continual rains produce landslips and mudslides....here in Costa Rica, out of the main blast of the weather system, there have been five deaths so far, evacuations to refuges and the Inter American highway is closed as often as it is open, but the worst thing that has happened locally is that the electricity lines came down, closely followed by the telephone lines.
I felt really sorry for the repair crews, soaked despite their oilskins, trying to replace posts in sodden ground, going from door to door to check on the service.... too busy even to stop for a coffee.
It is not encouraging to go out, so it was lucky that a parcel of books had arrived just before losing the internet...I had plenty to read and plenty of time to do it in as the coffee had been blown to the ground by the storms leaving nothing to pick until the next lot ripens in about a week's time.
By which time I hope that our chief picker has recovered from an insect bite which blew his arm up to five times normal size and sent him to seek attention at the local hospital.
The chickens disapprove and the ducks strongly dispute the claim that rain is 'fine weather for ducks'.
They sit gloomily on the edge of the tilapia tanks, only shifting slightly to release excrement and then resuming the hunched posture of deep misery.
They could go to shelter in their pens...but that would be too easy. They could not express as much resentment that way.
The pig doesn't seem to worry. She turns up in her pen at feeding times, then skids off down the hill again on her quest for roots, startling the cattle as she swooshes by like a four legged downhill skier.
The dogs definitely do not approve.
A dog who has nipped out in a dry moment to answer a call of nature does not appreciate being caught in a downpour before completion of mission and is reluctant to repeat the experiment.
Shut out on the porch until forced to perform before being allowed back in the house is not their idea of life and it won't be long before their shop steward approaches me with the updated canine version of the contract of engagement of seamen on the sailing ships carrying coal from Newcastle to London....
'Duff out, dumpling home
Poop in the cabin foul weather'.....
