Another Day in the Country
By PAT WICK
© Another Day in the Country
Living in the hills above the Napa Valley, in California, there was one thing that I rejoiced in more than any other — cool clear water. We have the most wonderful well water imaginable. It actually tastes sweet. We tend to take it for granted until you are at a friend's house in town and ask for a glass of water out of the tap, which you'll notice happens more and more rarely, and you taste all the chlorine. If you aren't used to it, you are hit in the face by the smell.
Coming to Kansas we anticipated more cool clear water, but our well in the back yard was pretty murky at first. Eventually it cleared up. Plants loved it, but we didn't trust it so we rejoiced with the rest of the inhabitants in town when rural water came to town.
When I was a child, right here in the country, water was a precious commodity. We had cisterns and elaborate ways to collect rain water. While there were supposedly filters in that cistern, the water that gushed forth from the pump had a unique flavor. I never questioned why. Probably a good thing, being the picky kid.
Somehow we got onto the subject of water the other day when we were eating Tony's birthday dinner with friends in Marion. I think it happened because the price of gas came up and then, seeking for conversation topics I told them about a "Red Green" episode on Public Television — I love this guy — where Red-the-Handiman converted his old car to run on water instead of gas. If you are familiar with Red Green you can imagine the outcome with an old bathtub duct-taped on the car roof filled with water running to a paddle wheel on the front end and connected to his transmission. The punch line of the skit occurred when Red said, "Oh, I forgot to tell you, this one runs on high-grade." And he pitched a bottle of Evian water up into the tub.
The people at the table laughed politely at my story. Who could have imagined 50 years ago that there would be such a thing as designer water OR that we would gladly pay a dollar — a WHOLE DOLLAR — for a pint of water?
Sitting at the table, Jim recalled their cistern water on the farm. His family lived down the road from us. "Remember the bucket with a dipper inside and how we'd all drink out of that dipper and put it back in the bucket?" We remembered.
There were some houses where my mother refused permission for me to drink from the dipper. She was always a germ-conscious lady! And there was a great-aunt's house that I visited once where the dipper was patched with chewing gum. Took no coaxing for me to back away. By that time I was a city kid and drinking water came from faucets.
"Our cistern water had a unique taste. Frogs would get into the cistern and sometimes they'd die in there." Jim had our attention now as we gazed with relief at our drinking glass on the table. No fussing about the smell of chlorine.
Another guest chimed in, "We had a hand-dug well when I was a kid on the farm and snakes would get into the well — no matter how much Clorox went into the water, you could still taste the snakes. I think I'd better remain anonymous," he looked at the writers at the table and laughed. "I was in high school when we finally got a cistern on the farm and yes there were frogs
My sister and I were mentally taking notes. We tend to rhapsodize about the "good old days" but you know folks, we stopped right there and gave thanks again for rural water which makes another day in the country easy to swallow, compared to what it used to be.
