This is one of those pumps that shuts off the water below ground, in fact, this looks just like the one I had when I lived on the mini-farm in Yakima. I lived on one acre in the middle of many acres. It was fabulous, looking out at pastures and cattle and the mountains beyond. In Yakima, the hills are nude. It was a weird thing, the first time I saw them, I about fell over. After all, I'd grown up around pines and firs and maples, etc. So when my first husband and I arrived in Yakima for his new job, with our new baby, I couldn't stop crying. Who knew there'd be no trees and we'd left our home and families behind to take this job in a desert. But it was the best paying situation he'd ever had, working at a city golf course--so it was the right thing to do--to move to an orchard town. But we were alone, with all the closed groups, orchard families. And bare hills. And heat and wind and icy cold winters. But it was beautiful and oh, did I ever have a garden. Great tomatoes though and lots of squash, cucumbers, lettuce, cabbage, and Jerusalem artichokes. It was a good life for awhile. Then there was the oil embargo and gas prices went up to $1.00 per gallon--interest rates to 12%. He lost his job and we sold the house on a contract and moved back home where we found another mini farm with cherry, pear, apple, and plum trees, and grapes, lots of concord grapes.
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