March, a changeable month. Full of quick and wild winds, swollen faces noses and lungs, snowstorms and temparatures rising high enough to warrant wearing shorts for a few days; as well as the awakening of the seeds that laid fallow in the ground through winter, disturbing the soil and giving rise to a restless energy. March was an incredibly divergnet month in my world; with lots of movement, uncomfortablity and growth both inside and out.

I began a project recording the memory of water. Seeking out the marks where it once flowed and is no longer there; how it is buried deep under the sand and the soil waiting to be liberated by my hands digging, or a light rain falling…it rises up this ‘under water’ to meet the rain. And tears. So many tears. Tears in such an amount I remained dehydrated for days at a time. Soaking in hot springs to warm my aching joints while the wind ripped that moisture from my body to such a degree I felt dessicated. Like a mummy while sitting in water. How is this even possible? These dual sensations are what occupied my thoughts and feelings this month. Flow next to dessication. Joy next to sorrow.

And then everything got quiet, like the quiet before a big ripping thunderstorm rains down its fury; and everything that could possibly grow began to grow; at first in these slow achy ways, like pushing through trecale. And then all the trees began blooming these sweet flowers and soft buds that will grow into thicker and thicker canopy through the spring and eventually into fruits we will eat in the late summer..dripping with the water squeezed from the ground and the sky to feed them. To feed us.

This is  life in the high desert. The many forms of water, of flow and ebb, ebb and flow, always thinking about water. Dreaming and praying for more snow in the mountains so the rivers will run and feed our gardens and farms. Praying and dreaming about spring rains like the month of May three years ago where it rained every day for a month. Do you remember that year? It was the most luscious spring and summer I had seen in the 19 years I have lived here.

Agua es Vida. Vida es Agua.