Water in the Midst of Drought

    I know we're in a drought here in southern Oregon. I know it when I see maple leaves turning brown, not yellow and way too soon, looking tired and dry with crumbly edges. I know it when I look at madrone trees, whose blossoms made me so ecstatic this spring (see blog post on May 20) but whose berries are not the abundant bright red bundles I had expected. Instead, they are shriveled hard knobs hanging on twigs before they drop. The trees look stressed and unhappy.

    Nevertheless.

    I was on two trails close to my house last week, while the Rogue Valley was socked in with smoke and my side of the mountain enjoyed blue skies. First I went up the O'Brien Creek trail to the Boundary trail, which starts on Windy Gap, to my right, and stretches south through the Siskiyous for 15 1/2 miles. I usually turn here towards Windy Gap and Grayback Mountain, but this time, for a change, I turned left, to hike as close to the junction with the Oregon Caves trail as I had time for. 

    A few days after I hiked O'Brien Creek, I climbed up the Sturgis Fork trail to meet the same Boundary trail, further south. From there I could have turned right, as I usually do, to hike to the top of Mt. Elijah and on to Oregon Caves, meeting, this time, the ghost of myself from a few days earlier. Instead, though, I turned left, on a part of the trail I had never done before. I was curious to see what it was like.

    What I discovered on both hikes was (1) views in both directions of a lot of smoke in the mountains and valleys, which made me grateful for the blue sky over my head, 

Gone-to-seed but still beautiful fireweed

 on the Boundary Trail south of Sturgis Fork

and (2) a lot of water flowing down the mountain. Both trails cross numerous small creeks. None of these becks flowed sluggishly. All were lined with thick riparian vegetation, the greenery hanging low over the gurgling streams. All sang their songs as they tumbled down the steep hillside. All looked as they always have when I hike the O'Brien Creek and Sturgis Fork trails. There was no sign of drought.

    The O'Brien Creek trail crosses a couple of steep meadows, where the big-tree forest, with its open understory, gives way to the rampant low-growing greenery of wide wet areas streaking down the mountain, a swath of color through the dark trunks of the forest. At one place on the trail, I noticed that though greenery was tumbling downhill to my left, the ecosystem on the uphill side of the trail provided only the drier soils in which the big trees thrive. There had to be a spring just below the trail. 

    Listening carefully, I could hear it bubbling on the hillside below me.

    I wanted to see that spring. 

    I climbed down the hillside, picking my way carefully through the plants, watching for holes in the spongey ground, following the sound of quietly bubbling water until, parting the leaves with my hiking pole, I found the spring, a deep dark hole out of which poured water, enough to keep a wide track of soil wet enough for a veritable cloak of wetlands vegetation, following the spring's small streamlet all the way down the mountain. 

    What a blessing: water pouring out of the ground. I paused there for a long moment of worship and thanksgiving before continuing along the trail.