Sacred

Growing up in Pennsylvania, water was never something I had to give much thought.  It was everywhere: rivers, lakes, creeks... Rainfall was plentiful, and the phrase "don't waste water" usually had less to do with the water itself, and more to do with the water bill.

Still, it was always a pleasant surprise to stumble upon a stream trickling through the woods.  As a young naturalist, these streams were my personal getaways where I would spend hours turning over rocks to find crayfish and salamanders, getting lost in the beauty of the ecosystem.  

Photo by Alex Bickers

Moving to the American Southwest has been a very different experience.  We go months at a time without rainfall, and the plant and animal life has all evolved to survive extended periods of drought.  Everyone here is painfully aware of the impending water crisis that threatens the region, and you can't (responsibly) buy a house here without asking yourself "What water supply does this house use? A water company? A well? Is it sustainable, or is it likely to dry up in my lifetime?"  In the desert, water is a commodity that you cannot take for granted.   

Living in Arizona, I do miss my salamander friends, just as I miss a chorus of treefrogs putting me to sleep on a summer night.  Yet one of the things I love about living here is how much it makes you appreciate the value and beauty of life's most precious resources. 

I don't stumble upon streams nearly as often as I used to.  But when I do come upon water running through the desert, it awakens some deep, primal ecstasy from within me.  The same majesty that the people living here centuries ago once witnessed is mine to witness now:  The sound of the water hitting the rocks, and the way it echoes through the desert canyon; The life it brings to the surrounding area, allowing the plants to sprout in a deep, lush green; The sight of this glimmering, merciful liquid making its way through the otherwise dry and unforgiving landscape, allowing animals from miles around to satisfy their thirst.  It's not just "nice," it's....

Photo by Alex Bickers

...sacred. 

After all, what could be more divine than water in the desert?  A rare few places, like Sabino Canyon, hold water almost year round and provide a true desert oasis.  They allow for deciduous trees to thrive, and even fish to have a home here.

Photo by Alex Bickers

But these are not the only places to find water in the desert, if you know when to look.

Each year, after months of temperatures reaching into the 110s, walking beneath a relentless sun by day and on a ground that is still radiating heat by night, the violent monsoon storms take hold of the region.  After weeks of being pelted with rain and hail, the Sonoran Desert shifts from a yellow-orange to a lively green as the plants relish in their newfound hydration.  Rainwater cascades down the mountainsides, rejuvenating the dried river beds and branching out into streams throughout the valley below.  

Is it any wonder that the locals here get so happy that time of year?  "Finally!" everyone expresses in unison.  "Finally, the monsoons have come." 

Photo by Alex Bickers

And of course, with this fresh outpouring of water comes life that most of us are not accustomed to seeing in this climate.  After just a few weeks, it's a whole new world.

Photo by Alex Bickers

Photo by Alex Bickers

So yes, sometimes I miss the constant trickle of a creek that doesn't dry up for three seasons of the year.  Some days I yearn for a marshy wetland that is alive with the sound of spring peepers.  

But here in the Sonoran Desert, what I do have is the promise that the rains will come again.  I swim in a seasonal pool that is not guaranteed tomorrow, so I appreciate it tenfold today.  I no longer see frozen ponds in the winter, nor lily pads in the spring, but I get to bear witness to a scene so amazing that my relationship with water will never be the same.  

Truly, this is what it means to live in the desert.

Photo by Alex Bickers