OCR Text |
Show In a year or two when the dry-farm boom withered with the sucking wind and the shift to the dry phase of the rainfall cycle, we often sought hope in the myth of the Underground Lake the Inexhaustible. Now having probed a bit more deeply we could add a dimension: we knew of a second layer of water-bearing gravel below the first. Beneath our feet, then, were two subterranean seas. And who knew how many more there might be, each insuring future security and magnifying our hopes of bounteous harvests if we irrigated by pumping? Let the phantom of Old Lake Bonneville haunt the air around us-we flouted the dry ghost. For beneath us we owned unplumbed lakes, lagoons, rivers that would nourish our roots with living water. |