Yuk! First of all let's get this taken care of right off the bat... the birdbath has been cleaned. My grandparents had a small but cozy back yard in Westbrook. When I climbed up next to the sink, I could survey all the backyard and the distant misshaped spruce trees with a sweeping glance. There was a large circular flower bed, lined with rocks my grandfather had painted white just below the kitchen window. Nana's flowers were beautiful, flourished all summer long and kept the ceramic mother duck and her three ducklings company. Next to them she kept a birdbath filled with sparkling water. If it got low, it was my job to grab the hose and fill it to the brim. I could do that. On each visit it seemed, I would go out back and move the ducks just a bit and rub their heads. Don't ask me why. I wondered what made her garden's flowers so big and colorful. On a visit one fall day, mystery solved. I heard shovels hard at work. The garden was all dug up, and the dirt piled high beside it. Grampa and a buddy were sweating leaning on their shovels. I asked Nana why she let them destroy her garden. She then went on and related to me the the nuances involved in something she called the septic tank. But I still didn't get it really.
"When you flush, doesn't it go forever?" I said.
"Not really." She replied with a chuckle and moved away. Another life lesson learned!