“I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be.” ― Douglas Adams

Memory of Water ,oil on canvas, 61x76cm (24x30)

Memory of Water ,oil on canvas, 61x76cm (24×30)

Outside of the bowl now, I am drinking what seems like gallons of water, and I want more.  I sense what the land must feel; every drop of water sucked in and ravished, desperate to quench a deep thirst.

Clouds form, rain falls, the scent of moisture fills the nostrils, but it never reaches the ground. Evaporating in mid-air.  They call it “Verga”.  You can look up, see it, smell it, even taste it on a dry tongue, but it will not touch you.  With 4% and less humidity everything is brown, evergreens have a tan cast to them, the drought here is considered medium, I do not want to think what it would be if severe.  The wind howls, dust rises from the grassless, horse trodden arenas that fill this area of suedo ranchers, and seeps into the tiniest cracks of my house. It swirls across empty land or down dirt roads in huge dust devils filled with grit, small pebbles and pieces of tumbleweeds. My truck trembles when hit.

So very little snow this year, hardly any rain, I think about our well. Others in the area have gone dry, from misuse of water, or drying aquifers.  Water hauling has become big business. We are more fortunate than some, situated in a bowl of the valley on a good aquifer, a deep fault, but I do not think our conserving water makes any dent as the consumption around us increases with more houses, more people, more horses.

The world has become that way, nothing is held sacred, especially respect for the land.  Just 20 years ago there was a law here in New Mexico, that there could only be one house per 5+ acres, because of the shortage of water. But that changed as more and more people left the cities for the countryside and housing was built on 1-acre lots. There was money to be made, people were willing to pay for the hard water brought up from deep aquifers so they could plant grass, plant moisture loving trees and plants as if water was without end. Restaurants, shops, schools, theaters, and all the other accessories of life developed around the new housing to fill the needs of the people. More traffic, more roads, more water.

This year the coyotes are gone, the nights are silent. Is it because of the drought? Because of the great coyote kill off by the macho humans with guns pretending to do a community service in spite of a national outcry? I know not. Because they are gone, the rabbit population has increased three-fold, and with lack of grass, lack of water they are eating anything green they can find, including my tulips and now they are working on the emerging day lilies. I will not plant a garden this year. I will grow some indoor kitty greens to keep the cats from munching on the long leaf plants in the house due to lack of any grass outside.

The owls left the year before and the mice and small rodent population increased. However, my cats are quite busy and happy about that situation.

Our regular bird population is changing. A few are still around but there are new birds coming in to eat at the feeder and drink thirstily at the water bowl.

I see a pattern forming and the best any of us can do is to at least try to do our part in this brave new world of changing climate.

But I know most won’t. Sacrifice is not part of our human nature, much less we concede that everything is connected and there are consequences to our actions.  We, as a species, have become quite self consumed and awareness of anything out side of our safe little cocoon is short-lived and unimportant.  No mater how terrifying, shameful or devastating the incident may be. “Tsk, tsk”, we say, then we go back to protecting ourselves, our individual special interest, and the world moves on as if nothing changed.

So it seems.

One day we will all pay the price, after all nothing comes free.  We have evolved great technology, we have not evolved as a species in many centuries; so the odds of us learning anything from the past, is quite dim.

However, if per chance, one day we do wake up, I will be long dead, knowing I at least tried to do my part.

My thirst will be quenched.


  1. fromthomas77b says:

    Beautifully put, someday the word sacrifice will be redefined as contribution. Thanks for stopping by.
    Peace and Love J.A.M.


  2. aliciakhoo says:

    You write so very well. I am inspired!


  3. Cassandra, always enjoyed your blogs and followed what you had to share. Now that you are here rather than Absolarts with them I am finding it very difficult to read this pale gray font-text on black. What say you?


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