Almost There

On Flash Floods, Chicken Wire, and Bathrooms

Wading through thick, sticky mud with a roll of chicken wire under one arm and a pair of pliers in the other, I surveyed the remnants of my fence. The recent flash floods have turned the little creek bed in my backyard into a muddy river that swept through with such force the fences have collapsed, and the sliver of dirt road connecting me to the main road has all but disappeared. I’d spent four days without electricity and running water – one of the electric towers nearby had been taken out by the floods – and the rain didn’t stop for a whole week, covering the skies in dark grey clouds and threatening with more thunder and storms.

There was no way I could fix the fences properly without a digger to scoop out all the mud and debris, but I figured I’d repair the worst of it with chicken wire: my dogs have discovered they could now roam free and explore the whole wide world out there, and my neighbors were not impressed.

My solution was nowhere near elegant - essentially, I just created an oddly shaped nest of chicken wire under the base of the fence and piled a bunch of rocks at the bottom – but it would have to hold for now until the roads are repaired and my landlord graces me with his presence to fix things properly. Until then, the chicken wire will do.

And, to be honest, it felt like a win after a week of cabin fever and dark evenings; granted, the flash floods here weren’t as bad as in Valencia where the storms have caused unimaginable damage and a horrific death toll. Here, in the mountains of Andalusia, it was mostly farmland and old ranches that took the worst brunt of it; and, for me, it cost a week of being completely cut off, improvising on candlelight, battery packs, and rainwater collection.