This pump at Shady Grove brought me back to my boyhood years. Growing up in Saskatchewan meant there was always a problem with water. In our small town of 500 souls there were only two public pumps. Some folks had their own pump, depending on which part of town they lived, and the rest of us had to fetch our drinking water from the town pump, whichever one had water. Water for washing came from the cisterns we had in our basements, which caught rainwater off the roof in the spring and summer and which we filled with snow in the winter, hoping it would melt fast enough to meet our needs. We were always conserving water.Getting water from the pump was an art and a hard physical job. I would take a big metal cream can in my little red wagon and haul it to the nearest well, also taking with me a small amount of precious water. I would place the big can under the spout and then pump like crazy. You could feel if the water was drawing upward or not, and if it did not, then priming was necessary. A little of the precious water down the pump shaft would wet the bushings and provide a better vacuum. Depending on how deep the water was, it could take several minutes to get the water up to the surface. When it finally started pouring, you did not dare stop or you would have to start over. I would often pump to exhaustion and certainly when I had a friend along, and we would take turns, the job was much easier.
How little we realise the value of simply turning a tap.
1 comment:
Exactly right. My only experience with hand pumping water was when we visited my mother's family in Alberta. The pump was at the church, and so a drive and then several water-filled milk cans later, off we would go back to the farm. I distinctly remember dipping a ladel into the can to get drinking water, drinking right out of the ladle. Funny how these memories are triggered. We are so fortunate at the ease these luxuries are available to us now.
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