Keeping the cellar dry
Getting my feet wet was never an issue, when I lived in La Vieille Capitale. We were up the hill, and the authorities had provided lots of ditching to keep any river overflow heading down to the sea. But, for many it was an issue. As son #1 starts the search for an eventual dream home, he’s been forwarding realtor listings. Seeking tacit permission from the parents, I guess.
What did capture my attention were maps from the city database, that showed where taxpayers might expect dampness during the spring surge. We didn’t use to have access to such things; secrets best kept from newcomers to a neighbourhood, who lacked the contacts with the locals about water and basements. I am pleased to see such information, even if it raises the price point for a home. We don’t all lust after a pool in the basement.
Locally, that’s not an issue. I can see the sea, and if it starts to rise more than thirty meters, we have bigger problems than a wet basement. I’ll be trying to construct a raft out of trees in the woods. I don’t have any direct training in the building of floating platforms, but I feel sure that I can find out how. And the lack of a sharp axe, or a bowsaw… that’s for the future.
I mean, we have been warned: this island will eventually be separated into three entities. As long as Amazon gets through, and as long as the rising waters don’t bring sea ice, I’m good. No, really. But do check back.
