So, this is all that's left in the fall. Upstream, the irrigators have taken "their" share of the water. While it's true that the Magic Valley wouldn't be what it is today without the canal system, it sure puts a sad face on one of the most beautiful places in the world. It looks a lot like I feel.
The water that flows is but a reminder of what was.
The water that falls is a hope of what might come.
The water no longer wets and softens what is hard.
It is hot and dry now. The sun's visits get shorter each day, and each day the sun travels farther south.
Soon, the snows will fall and freeze the water to the rock. But while there is yet enough sun to move, the water, what there is left, will flow freely. The water that was stolen has nourished yet another year's worth of crops, and soon the dirt that supported them will rest.
These waters have claimed three young lives this summer, leaving so many to mourn. Yet, many more were thrilled by their immense power. Some day I will leave this place, and I will miss these waters. Will they miss me?
0 comments:
Post a Comment