Suburban Solution

Fave flower - not from an oak

After days of warm and mainly dry weather the water butts were nearly empty, so we finally got round to using the one behind the shed.
To our surprise, the water from this butt foamed, was not totally clear and had a less than fragrant aroma. I showed a frothy can full to DH.
"Do you think an acorn could have dropped down the downpipe, and fermented in the warm weather?" I suggested.
DH didn't think this was likely. Armed with a torch he bravely lifted the lid and peered in. Well, I think he was brave. There might have been an alien from out of space in there, or a swamp monster...or anything that is unpleasant, like a self-serving politician or bank overdraft. Instead, there was a nearly full water butt, with a green film covering the surface.  The decision was taken to empty the container, but the contents were not going to go to waste.
"Ah well, I can give a generous soaking to the plants at the end of the garden, where the rain does not get." I decided.

Foxglove under the mighty oakes

So an exciting evening was spent watering the garden, can by can. Actually can can by can can, as I use two in tandem - one slowly filling, whilst the largess from the other is distributed upon the rain-starved vegetation. DH then cleaned out the water butt and reconnected it.

Meanwhile, we think that the green film is nothing more sinister than the sap from overhanging trees being washed off the shed roof and into the water butt. We plan to use this water first thus depriving it of the opportunity to stagnate and ferment.
This mundane solution must be disappointing, for those who hankered after a more dramatic explanation, but this is suburbia.

If the tale was set in a more rural setting, it could have featured septic tanks, but this is suburbia.
If the setting was urban, it would probably involve some element with serious street cred, but this is suburbia - where we live, our lives overshadowed by our love-hate relationship with the nearby oaks - loving the wildlife they bring to our doorstep, and hating the shade they throw at us.

This is suburbia.