It's Raining!

And the system is working – or seems to be from what I can see...

Best Beloved took a weekend last month and we connected all the tanks together at the bottom, leaving a reserve of about four tons should there be a need for firefighting – not that four tons would make a big difference, but having a reserve also helps with cleaning and leaves room for sediment to settle out. We cut a hole for the outlet to which we can connect a portable electric pump (we looked at a permanent solar pump, but it was not cost effective), and connected a tap.

And then my dear husband climbed a ladder and installed air locks on the top of each tank. And then my dear husband fell off the ladder... Yes, he did, from right at the top of the tank – about 2.3 metres up. And he's a big man, so when he falls it is with a thump. A large black bruise graced his hip for ten days, and he felt distinctly like he needed realignment, but there was no permanent damage.

After that came the difficult part: connecting the guttering to the tanks. We used 63 mm hose – and fortunately we had enough lying around that we did not have to buy it – and created a sloping route for the water to flow from the collection/filter tanks that contain gravel and are positioned under the downspouts, over the outside steps, and into the tanks. The hose is heavy and hard to force into the connecting pieces, and two of the connections were in places where BB could get no leverage at all. Watching him, I was terrified that he would fall again because he had to balance high on the ladder that was in turn balanced on the stairs – and both hands were occupied with forcing the hose into the join.

Ugghh!! We were both glad when it was over. It's butt-ugly (no pun intended), so we will need to do some plantings to disguise, or at least soften the starkness.  But first let's see how it works.

Rain has fallen steadily since Saturday afternoon, and the gutters have been doing their job. Standing beside the big tank, I can hear the satisfying drumming of water falling steadily inside, but the tanks have not yet filled to the reserve level, as when I open the tap at the end of tank four, nothing comes out.

Rainwater Catchment System

At long last we are in the process of installing something that I have wanted for ages: a serious rainwater collection system. How I regret not researching water conservation better when we were building this house! Retrofitting is so much harder than building to design... Where were my braincells when Best Beloved was urging me to 'really think about what you want and how we can include it, because making changes later will be hard, if not impossible'. 

Leo and I (see his feet sticking out?  He's holding the flange
inside the barrel while I tighten the outside) experiment with
creating a filtration barrel.  The barrel will be contain a layer
of stones and gravel, and will filter debris from the water after
the initial 20 minutes of rain have cleared the roof of dust and
 bird poop. The final version will have the outlet emerging
from the bottom of the barrel rather than the side.

...But that's another story... Mea culpa, he was right.

Water conservation is not high in Best Beloved's agenda. He believes that rain should be allowed to run off the roof, soak into the earth, and recharge the water table 'in its natural cycle'. I agree, but think that that rain should be made to do as many things as possible before being allowed to slink off underground and run to the sea. And that in a country as dry as Cyprus (Paphos regional rainfall is 50 centimetres per year – almost all of it falling between the months of April and November), it should be everyone's responsibility to catch rainwater and use it instead of relying on the dams and the – often antiquated – village cisterns and delivery systems. Add to our arid conditions the fact that tens of thousands of people have moved here over the last few decades with their requirements for swimming pools, lawns, and manicured golf courses, and you will see that the strain placed on our water sources and the conventional management practices, is growing every year.

Hence my mania for water storage and recycling.

Best Beloved, I reasoned, wants a swimming pool in the future. Maybe we can create some kind of rainwater natural pool..? (Impractical, it turns out, thanks to the harshness of our climate and the total lack of experience in the matter in Cyprus. There are a few in Israel, but we were unwilling to gamble on the expense of creating one here and ascending the learning curve on our own.) Maybe at least we can catch the same quantity that we would use in a pool and recycle it back into domestic and garden use? That is a distinct possibility – and more.

Strangely Cyprus, despite hosting seminars for our neighbours the Israelis, Jordanians, and Palestinians to learn about rainwater recycling togther on neutral territory, has no initiatives of its own for catching rainwater – or, novel concept, for collecting and sharing water and knowlege with our Turkish Cypriot bretheren. If the Israelis, Palestinians, and Jordanians can combine their interest and expertise and weave their shared experience into another strand which strengthens the possibility of peace between them, why can't we? But that, too, is another story for another day...

Over the last year or so I have been researching madly: reading books and contacting experts as far-flung as Israel, Australia, India, and Arizona. Following raincatcher guru Brad Lancaster's instructions, I have improved the land's ability to retain water by constructing berms and mulched basins around the fruit trees, the olives, and any other plants, and have been looking at the house and pondering how to use our enormous roof area (132+ square metres on the main structure alone) to maximise water collection.

D-Rain tanks seemed to be one possible solution, with the siting of a massive underground tank at the bottom of the driveway, but a quote from the German company that produces them was prohibitively expensive – and that was before we had even included the local construction costs.

Only the main part of the roof will be guttered.  Collection/
filtration tanks will stand at both ends of the house, sending
 the collected rainwater to the large holding tanks on either
side.

The catchment for the main part of the house – excluding the verandahs and the roofs of the lower rooms – is around 66 tons, using the figure of 50 centimetres of rainfall per year. Siting of tanks and positioning catchment systems took hours of pondering and discussion spread over a couple of weeks, and here, BB's clarity of thought won out over my unreasoned vision. “We'll put the first tanks on the lower terrace of the slope on the kids' side of the house,” he said. “And depending on how well the system works, we'll bring a digger next year, level parts of the other side, and put in some more there.” Meanwhile, we would install guttering on the upper roof (the lower, verandah roof does not have sufficient height to allow for a collection/filter tank underneath with enough slope to run off to the holding tanks. Most of the run-off from the verandahs and lower roofs is already channelled into garden beds and the area where eventually the pool and lower garden will be landscaped, and that which isn't accounted for will be easy to deal with at a later date.

The 2.4 x 11m terrace which will hold the first installment of
four 8-ton rainwater holding tanks for use in the garden.

I checked several websites for tank manufacturers. Varelplast in Larnaca makes twenty-ton tanks, but they are too big to put on the side terrace, so we have opted for an in-line connection of four eight-ton capacity polyethylene tanks from VitaPlast in Nicosia. An English company, DrainTech came out from Paphos to give me a quote for heavy duty PVC guttering, but their price was double that of a Cypriot company's aluminium work – which seems to do a fine job directing the water from Phil and Mili's roof – so we're going with Windorama. They are coming to do the work while Sophia and I are in the UK inspecting boarding schools for next year.

Best Beloved and I worked out a gravel filter system for the initial collection tanks, and he has arranged for several local craftsmen to create the structures that will hold them and install them in our absence: frames for the big blue barrels and galvanised archways to carry the downspouts from the guttering over the walkways and into the big tanks.

The blue filtration barrel is not in its final position.  The first
array of tanks will be on the terrace below the fig tree, and the
pool will ultimately be in the flat area in front of the van.

I can't believe that we are finally doing this... Oh, Asproulla of Little Faith, didn't he promise you at the end of last summer that we would do it before this winter? And has he ever broken a promise?

Watch this space for updates! 

Earthworks

Well the diggers have moved out after a week’s tearing, grinding, chipping, and placing of rocks, and I am left with a whole new canvas on which to work magic… or totally screw up.

As my long-suffering readers know, I am on this new kick of rainwater harvesting. Cyprus is not short of water – if it’s collected and used prudently. But there is no infrastructure outside the big dams for rainwater harvesting, and when the rain does fall here (sometimes torrentially between November and April), much of it just slides off the saturated land, tearing off topsoil and staining the sea for hundreds of metres. If that water were captured and either stored in the land in the form of passive earthworks or stored in tanks like it is in Australia, problems of erosion and increasing desertification would be slowed down, there could be a lessening of summer water rationing, and costly oil-driven desalination plants might not need to be rushed into production.

But all that’s wishful thinking on a national scale. All I can do is work on my own little patch.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I have been constructing berms and basins -- a la Brad Lancaster’s suggestions in his excellent book Rainwater Harvesting for Drylands and Beyond – around the trees in the field. I have been trying to do two trees a day, but a week’s cold held me up so I am 14 trees behind schedule and still have around another forty to do. Each tree needs to have the soil and organic matter – leaf drop, old compost, straw – cleared from trunk to drip-line, then a berm about a foot high constructed on contour at drip-line to catch the run off from irrigation and rain and hold the moisture to let it slowly infiltrate the soil. After I have cleared the soil around the tree, I put a layer of cardboard to help keep down the tenacious, pernicious, and down-right ornery, hard to eradicate rhizome grasses that grow wherever there is moisture, then I add a layer of compost and straw to hold the moisture when it arrives. Look at the calendar: we’re nearly at November and rain has threatened a few times. I am trying to get as much done as possible before I have to deal with mud and run off and all such work grinds to a halt.

(Left)I did this apple tree this morning: in the background weed-infested apples await tomorrow's attentions.
(Below) Necatrine trees. The upslope side is open to catch run-off, and mulched only with a layer of straw. The downslope side is bermed and heavily mulched with cardboard to deter weeds, then covered with a layer of straw.

But the diggers weren’t working in the field. Oh no! They were following a long-laid plan nearer the house to terrace the slope below the olive grove/kitchen garden, where previously a haphazard line of boulders had delineated the beginning of the long drop to the gorge. Then they carved out another terrace on the edge of the property where a road/fire-break – its outside edge to be planted with prickly-pear cactus as another precaution against fire – will circle the house below the retaining wall, giving us almost 360 degree vehicle access to the house.

(Left). Before

(Left) After.

Then Best Beloved decided on a line of Cypress trees above the road – Tuscany comes to Paphos – under-planted with rosemary, lavender, and dryland ground cover (all also bermed and basined and mulched to catch rainwater and divert run-off from the driveway). I finished that this morning, having enjoyed Leo’s invaluable assistance all weekend.

The trouble is that while the diggers did the big earth cutting and rock moving, they left me with the smaller ones. Alex and I have started building dry-stone terraces, again following Mr Lancaster’s instructions. Thank goodness for strapping teenage sons! Alex has willingly schlepped rocks and cut balks to my instruction. If these terraces succeed, thanks will be largely due to him. If they fail, the responsibility is mine – but I will have climbed many steps up the learning curve.

Mangos Finished...

This morning I had the last of the mangos.

We had a great season this year: sold 100 kilos, gave away about fifty, and easily ate another 100 kilos ourselves, starting mid-August and finishing today. We have about fifteen trees, some of them wild, others grafted to four different varieties, and still others in the nursery that are only a foot high and waiting for Best Beloved’s best efforts with his grafting knife. We are the only producers of organic mangos in Cyprus and our fruit is the best because we pick individually and sell in small quantities when each piece is at its optimum ripeness.

Some days this summer we would feast on them out of hand – cutting six or seven at a time and slurping them at the table.

One unforgettable Sunday, I rediscovered that the best place to eat a mango is in the sea: we had gone with Li’l Bro (my youngest brother-in-law who lives abroad) and his children to a deserted beach in the Akamas. There I gorged in the shallows, salt water mixing with sweet juice – and an in-place clean-up. Perfect.

Most mornings Best Beloved and I enjoyed a smoothie. Pick 2 or three ripe mangos and a handful of figs. Blend with yoghurt, water, and ice-cubes. Beats wheatie-puffs hands down as breakfast of champions.

This morning was my last one… I walked the Littles to the supermarket to catch the bus, then went to the field where I spent an hour-and-a-half digging berms and basins for rainwater harvesting around the fruit trees.

Then I went home, sliced the last, perfect mango into the blender (no figs today), and enjoyed the closing of the season.

Blessings on the mangos, for they are the very best.

Outside Improvements

Our house is still a work in progress, constantly evolving, and recently we have been paying attention to the outside.

Some time ago I began the side garden. Sophia had said when we moved in that she wanted it for hers and we let her have it. We planted a hibiscus, two plumerias, and a mulberry and she put in some other flowers. But teens change as times change and her care of it fell by the wayside. It became a messy burden, a haven for weeds, and a dumping ground… Until last spring.

A friend who is a landscape designer made me a plan: to clear the garden, to lay landscape fabric and a spaghetti pin watering system, to plant some xeriscape shrubs and grasses, and to mulch the whole area with white gravel. I had seen something similar in a Mediterranean gardening book, so her drawn-to-scale plan was just what I needed.

The work took some time, some muscle, and not a little sweat, but we finished it last June and the plants are now flourishing.

Project Two involves the lower area between the retaining wall and the edge of the house – another festering area of weeds and prickles, devoid of its own soil and full of backfill from the house construction. Against my better judgement last year we decided to pave it and Best Beloved had the concreting done as a surprise for me while I was away at a workshop (Romantic-Gifts-‘R’-Us!). I wanted to retain spaces for planters all along the edge – again xeriscape – maybe olives or lentisk underplanted with lavender and thyme, watered by roof run-off. Now this area is being paved, the planters are being built and stone faced, and a nothing place is on the way to becoming a paradise.

The fly in the ointment is that I have been learning about rainwater harvesting, and the mantra is ‘reduce hard-scape’.

Water! Water! We get plenty in winter but the searing summer depletes the dams, and boreholes are drying up and becoming contaminated. Add to that the still-constant building (no-one buys the ghastly little maisonette-boxes, but someone must be making money off them somewhere) and the mining of the underground Diarizos, and rainwater harvesting – both in the soil and in cisterns – seems a good option.

So we are now planning a pool: not a resource-guzzling chemical pool, a living pool, fed by winter rains and cleaned by plants and fish. In times of need it can double as a huge storage tank, and in times of plenty we can enjoy it.

Below: One day this area will be a living swimming pool...

But the learning curve is steep. I have stopped producing organic vegetables on a commercial basis at the moment, in order to devote myself to house projects. There are some great resources, both on-line and in print devoted to graywater use and rainwater harvesting, so I am spending a lot of time in front of the computer and with my nose in books. A major concern at the moment is: if I harvest the water in the soil by building small earthworks and directing it around the trees and into mulch-filled basins, won’t that cause overgrowth of the horrible rhizome weeds that plague any soil that receives sufficient water at the moment? I am joining on-line forums on dryland permaculture to find out!

Stay tuned!