Kathy Rohloff:
Septic Always Fails
At Worst Possible Time

I enjoy April in Vermont because spring is coming even though it usually consists of abundant rain and lots and lots of mud.

Back in 2001, spring in April amounted to extremely heavy snowfalls. In fact, I think we broke a record.

On the north side of our house the snow was piled 8-10', and we didn’t expect to see a complete thaw until late May.

While all of the snow remained our septic failed, and yes, the access to the tank was buried under 8-10' foot of snow and 12" of frozen soil. Earlier when we had the tank pumped, we realized that what we and the previous owners thought was a 1000-gallon concrete tank proved to be a 300-gallon steel one. We were just grateful that it wasn’t an old Volkswagen.

There are a few things that happen when your septic system can only process liquids, and it is too early to replace it. The most notable changes were a lot less company, an inordinate attention to the timing of bodily functions, and a brilliant royal blue, handicapped accessible port-a-potty in the garage. Fortunately, the neighbors were as snowed in as us and did not witness the delivery.

I will pass quickly over the bundling up at 6 a.m. to "visit" the garage when the temperature hovered in the 20s. I still remember the feeble glow cast by a warming light we once used in our chicken house clamped inside the potty. Somehow I always associate reading the Reader’s Digest with cold, mittens, an eerie glow, and a lot of blue plastic surrounding me. It was an adventure that I don’t care to repeat.

But May did pass and near the end Henry, our excavator, came to replace our septic system. That day stands out clearly in my memory. The end of the port-a-potty was in sight and if I could have hired a band to celebrate Henry’s arrival I would have.

"He’s here! He’s here! No more potty in the garage!" I crowed.

Henry backed his rig carefully down our drive and immediately nicked the basketball stand support pole, which promptly snapped in two and fell across the drive.

Russ glanced at me and said, "I got a bad feeling about this. If Henry’s only been here two minutes and the hoop is down what else will happen?"

Henry shuffled up to the front door with his hat nervously swirling in his hands. "I seem to have hit your pole," he stated in his soft drawling voice. Even in work clothes, Henry couldn’t disguise the gentleman he obviously was.

"Don’t worry about it," Russ said. "It’s not seeing much use anyway. The toilet system, however, could be better."

Thus began our septic replacement adventure. "I think we’ll have to remove that quince bush," he said.

"Henry, I love that bush, Kathy loves that bush, and I’m not telling her it’s going," Russ replied. "I’m sure you’ll think of something."

Henry’s blue eyes twinkled and he smiled broadly around his handlebar mustache, "Well, if your wife wants it, I better think of something," he said.

After that discussion, Russ returned to the house and Henry carefully maneuvered the unloaded backhoe around it. The sounds of the excavator filled our ears and then abruptly ceased.

Again, Henry appeared at the door with his hat in hand and the glimmer in his blue eyes, dimmed. "Well, I found your leach field."

He had indeed found it. The rear wheel of the backhoe had sunk about a foot into the proposed leach field and was listing to the right. We began to realize that Henry wasn’t having a very good day.

We possessed a very old system. It consisted of cement block and timber cribbing, a system that Henry had "frankly never seen". And he’d never before sunk his backhoe into someone’s yard.

Over the next few weeks, we watched in amazement as Henry unearthed old foundations to a previous barn and a lot of debris long since buried.

"What do we do will all this junk?" I asked one day as I surveyed his work.

"We do what they did. We cover it with soil; it’s not going anywhere." And he continued to diligently excavate new trenches and lay new pipelines.

Unfortunately, work was stopped for a few weeks because of some emergencies in Henry’s family. So the length of our port-a-potty episode extended into the summer.

During one of those delays, Russ’ brother Scott and his fiancée Becky were planning their first visit to Vermont. We had fully expected the septic to be finished by then and assured Scott that we would understand their reluctance to visit.

"I’m an old Boy Scout," he said. "It won’t be a problem."

"But, Scott, the system will only take liquids. Any serious business will have to be done in the garage? What will Becky think? She’s not an old Boy Scout." Russ replied.

"Becky will be great."

And Becky was great. This Chicago city gal just adapted to our dilemma. This was her first visit with future relatives, and probably her first sighting of a port-a-potty in a residential garage.

Early in the morning of the first day of her visit she cheerfully announced after breakfast, "Well, I think I’ll go visit the garage. Does anyone need to go before me?" And right before heading out, "There’s plenty of toilet paper, right?"

We had a lovely visit over several days. They got to experience the beauty of Vermont, a tour of Ben and Jerry’s, the novelty of a floating bridge, the fragrance of verdant pastures, a lot of ‘bathroom humor’, and an especially bright blue port-a-potty that saw frequent "garage visits".

Come June, the port-a-potty was bid a cheerful good-bye, and the septic system was completed with exceptional work done by Henry. He did a really nice job on the basketball stand too.