Sunday, February 13, 2011
An unplanned trip to meet up with a Harley-Ridin Texan Soul Sister took us once again off our mountain and into the Arizona desert today.
Between the never-never land of Bumble Bee and Cordes a beacon stands.
A turning, churning, pumping lifeline
Ancient and worn
Feeding two equally ancient and worn tanks
A water buffet!
So cold it makes your teeth hurt to dip your hands under the surface
So clear that every morsel of brilliant green "plant things" that grow on the bottom of the stock tanks gently wave "hi" as you peer into the depths of the peaceful pool of freshly pumped spring water
(Note here... as a Nebraska farm girl we called these "plant things" seaweed. obviously not the correct name but HEY, it was as close to seaweed as we ever thought we'd come!)
I'll add that since this was desert the temp was in the 70s, it was dusty and we'd been bumping along on a dirt road for the best part of 2 1/2 hours on this fine day, so to pull off the road and indulge in a few nostolgic windmill moments was a more then welcome treat.
Who could have resisted touching the cold fresh water that slowly dripped out of the overflowing tank?
AND the "rudder" of the windmill declared the manufacturer was from Beatrice, Nebraska.
Home always finds you.........