5000 gallon pond. 25′ x 15′. Ordinarily spring start-up involves closing a drain, inserting a few filter pads, flipping a switch, pulling the cover off the winter-pit (deep spot), and adding 3 cups of pond balance pink stuff. The fish, sleeping through the winter, wake up and swim about and all is well. This year, however,…we had the 10 year old main pump die. This meant pulling it. But the cam-lock connector stuck. We got it out, and decided to install the NEXT one above the water line so we don’t have to work it under near-freezing water by touch and feel. This entailed sawing off the old one very carefully—30 feet of buried 2″ ribbed hose is not to be reckless with: we left enough comfortably to attach the new pipe/connector the way we want, and get the pump running. BUT in the interconnectedness of things-that-go-wrong, the slow incomplete demise of the pump last fall meant fir needles and old leaves piled up in the 20 lb (dry:more when wet) tangle of green tape that is the guts of the waterfall filter (think of a large garbage can full of gunky green tape that is populated, I swear, with man-killing leeches. (Actually they’re little worms and bugs.) And the new line, half-an-inch larger than the last, is blasting out water from the falls and the falls are clogged and spilling water like a volcano over the edge…So I climb up onto the rocks of the waterfall’s backside, haul out the tape into a trash can, take it away to hose down, and meanwhile the gunk escapes into the pond, rendering it a murky mess. So I go get the ‘fine’ filter pads to try to clean it up. Today I have 2 pairs of pants—the wet ones, and the dry ones. I sit with the window open, listening to the pump, and when (not if) its filters clog, I shall put on the wet pants and run out and rinse filters. Literally wash, rinse, repeat. This will be my day, besides taking notes on the next Alliance Rising book. Such is the glamorous writing life. The African Queen experience, complete with crawly things, in your own back yard.