This morning, the temperature outside is a nippy 44 degrees, and the coffee tastes yummy next to our roaring fire. Across the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada, homeowners perform the autumn ritual of turning off the sprinkler system. It’s not glamorous or festive, but part of survival in snow country. A frozen pipe in January is a bomb waiting to ruin a wonderful spring day in 2026.
The thing that makes this ritual go smoothly is that our tools have a specific resting place. If anyone asked either of us at any point, “Where is the sprinkler key?”, we’d know what to retrieve and where it sits. That’s important information to remember, because around here, disaster can strike at any moment. We’re ready!
Before beginning, we’ll assemble our sacred gear. One special 4′ sprinkler key, a flathead screwdriver, a piece of rebar for leverage, and courage. We also need a flashlight for peering into dark corners where, inevitably, a Black Widow spider the size of a walnut has taken up residence. Gloves are necessary, although they provide minimal emotional protection from the sudden appearance of a startled arachnid.
Our main valve is under a freshly painted little house. Located underneath are drains for this and that. As a new widow in 2020, I avoided this area like the plague. Mr. B’s Garden Service would come and take care of it for only $75. These days, we take a deep breath, remove the house, and prepare to do battle with cobwebs and debris from six months of irrigation glory. For all this, I am so grateful to HHH.
After finding the shut-off valve, and with the finesse of a surgeon and the patience of a saint, he’ll turn it until the hissing stops. There’s always that one moment when I’m not sure if it’s the right valve, and then, there’s the faint gurgle in the distance. That’s the signal the drains are working and the job is almost done.
At this point, the October air reminds us that we’re just in time for the first frost. After draining completely, we’ll have avoided any unwanted plumbing bills for another year. Every valve in sight will be closed, while I hope we remember the ones we opened last spring. The sprinkler system is my favorite thing to forget about.
This morning, as the sun rises over the sagebrush and the chill lifts, the water shut off marks the true change of seasons. The sprinklers are silent, the trees are shedding, and the desert prepares for winter’s quiet. The Great Sprinkler Shut-Off is complete! Come on winter, we’re ready any time you are.
More tomorrow.