In the great Sonoran Desert

Wait! What?

I took this picture an hour ago in the city of Gilbert, Arizona, a suburb of the capital, Phoenix. Here is where Phoenix lies with respect to the eastern boundary of the desert in Arizona (the red line represents US Highway 191):

It is obvious that the city and the state have diverted water from elsewhere and used it here. What happens to the ‘elsewhere’? Where does the water come from to provide the citizens of Gilbert, AZ, with such a lovely park (one that my great-granddaughter visits often)?

Aqueducts in Arizona (source):

One result of this diversion can be seen in ‘Groundwater decline and depletion’ (US Geological Survey):

(Right click on the picture to see it in a new tab or window, then click on the picture for an enlargement).

John Gray, in his book Straw Dogs (which book I highly recommend for many reasons) notes:

If you want to understand twenty-first-century wars, forget the ideological conflicts of the twentieth century… Future wars will be fought over dwindling resources.

And what resource could be more important than water?


10 Violent International Water Conflicts

Interstate water wars are heating up along with the climate

Observation and question:

We have lawns and golf courses and swimming pools and man-made lakes in the desert. How long can we maintain this lifestyle until the water table and water from elsewhere can no longer support it, physically and politically?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Picture, Word, Number

I arrive at a place of great beauty
I wish to capture it, to keep it
I draw a picture of this place

I observe a sweet child
I wish always to have her cherubic face to view
I photograph her

I am transported by emotion
I want to remember this moment forever
I write a poem

I accumulate some money and goods
I want to know their value
I put it all in numbers so I can perceive my wealth

Yet the pictures, the words, the numbers
Are not enough
They are not the things they represent

I cannot recreate and keep the beauty I’ve seen
I cannot capture and keep the sweet smile of the child
I cannot regenerate the emotion I wrote of
The numbers representing my wealth fail to satisfy

Why, then, do I persist
In drawing,
In photographing,
In writing,
In numbering?

This is grasping, clinging
To a ghost of a moment…

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , | 1 Comment