In early spring-tide, when the icy drip
Melts from the mountains hoar, and Zephyr’s breath
Unbinds the crumbling clod, even then ’tis time…
Spring is back. Upstate is melting.
During spring break I went on a delightful hike with my family and friends, along the Ashokan Reservoir. The reservoir, like others in the area, was created in the early 1900s, I learned. It flooded the town of Ashokan and surrounding farms, to quench the thirst of the big city, downstate.
Home from the hike, looking at the photos taken that walk among as of yet leafless trees, frost and thaw, I feel the need to learn more about this watering can of the five boroughs.
My Brooklyn window looks out on a budding magnolia, and I know the garden hoses around town are starting to be unfurled by the thousands, as I write this.
Sometimes we forget the interconnectedness of our most basic resources. Thanks for bringing these ice sculptures to our eyes through a GEORGIC revery. When next I turn on the faucet to drink a glass of water or rinse a dish, these images will certainly come to mind.
Last Sunday, I received a beautiful book called “Art in action” as a present. How much of a present became clear when I opened it. The photo on the title page related so aptly to the post I sent the day before: The Source—Shana and Robert ParkeHarrison
(see: http://www.artnet.com/artwork/424523306/112600/robert–shana-parkeharrison-the-source.html)
—beautifully resonating your comment to boot.
Between the georgic beauties of the reservoirs and the urban gardens we water, lies a world that dulls the taste buds, and flattens the bread of the men repair the pipeline.
Read this amazing story that’ll make you think differently of the water you drink, and the 9-to-5 job you hold.
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/11/23/nyregion/23tunnel.html?_r=1&ref=nyregion