Straight into the salt water soup
Sure, we’re new to the neighbourhood, but the novelty still hasn’t worn off. Every morning, when any of the three looks out the south windows towards open water, we’re enthralled. The view is different, every day. No need to hang paintings; just stare out and breathe deeply.
In fact, even such banal tasks as going down the road to check the mail (I didn’t do that today, in passing) gives an opportunity to admire the view. Three minutes is a short time to get satisfaction, so the next few years shouldn’t become ordinary.
But what about the water we can’t see? I guess that fracking question is back on the table in the next province, and here on the Island, there are some VERY GREEDY people involved in large scale agriculture. They seem to calculate that what we don’t see we won’t miss (until it’s gone). There may be a song in there… I’ve read, a little. What we pump out to spray on thirsty tubers isn’t replentished immediately. The runoff goes straight into the salt water soup (the same one I admire each morning). And if we run out of drinking water, guess who’ll be first on the bridge to somewhere else? Hint: they have deep pockets and love to grow potatoes.
If only we could find some way to use salt water to wet down the fields. Come on, science. There has to be a way.
Alone in the house again this evening. The wind is up, and there’s some rain coming down. A perfect balance. I don’t have to go out, so I’ll be fine.
