For
the summer I call a travel trailer home.
Fed
by melting snow and scarce summer rains, the Rio Penasco springs from
the Sacramento Mountains, descends through Cox Canyon, then disappears
into an aquifer in the desert below. On the river's
journey, in narrow ditches ranchers divert the flow for pasture
irrigation. Early settlers grew vegetables in the irregular
shaped, levied patches of grazing land. Billy the Kid dreamed of
farming by this creek called a river.
In
other locales the Penasco might be considered a stream, but in a land
of little water, it poses as a river. Although deep in places,
it measures only six feet in width. Reeds with thick red stems
grow in the water's edge. Deep pools provide havens for brown
trout. Under floating moss, a slender tail waves.
A
weeping willow grows beside the river; the roots reach through the
earth to tap moisture below. Its drooping branches form a canopy
over the watercourse. The light, the water, the reeds, and the
willow create a scene from a Kinkaid painting.
A
speckled mallard with her flock of six down-covered ducklings, swims
near. They drive with the current, but see me and paddle
upstream, leaving tiny wakes on the glassy surface.
New
Mexico-
snow
melts
rivers
ripple.
Magazine