We have suffered through a few years of drought here in New Mexico. Our farmers having only one chance during the year for irrigation water from the system off of a dammed lake to our north… pumping well water to sustain thirsty crops and orchards in between. Until this past week.
From parched to flooded, our landscape has changed to wet red earth and tumbling skies with heavy, sopping clouds all black and arriving every hour. Horses whose hooves were cracked and dry from the hot sand now are standing submerged and in some cases, knee deep. Literally.
My boots have been sucked from my feet – feet landing in cold squish mud before I realized they had become shoe-less. My hay under tarps has fared well enough, thank goodness – because the possibility of getting more will not exist until the skies clear and riding lessons can resume to bring in some money!
The berms I had built for my Mom’s mobile home (having been approved by the county and the ETZ; much pride in that for me for the struggle of moving earth by shovel and hoe) have diverted the floods to the “ponding area” which was my arena and turn out for the horses. A pond it is at the moment. A slick, deep one. The horses stand, bored, under their roofs where, yesterday, I dumped pine shavings (they are all used up now) to raise the ground and add some dryness. The dark storms continue to roll in, like clockwork. Day and night, the water drenches us and heals the desert.
I am grateful. The inconvenience is short lived and tolerable, so far. The trees rejoice. The frogs sing in sudden lakes at decibels that are nearly painful. I watch the water rush down my kitchen window with a cup of tea in my hand. I am grateful.