A Thirst for Lakes in a Time with No Water
Drought. Seven long years it was between the times it really rained in Northern California. In March of 1992 it rained enough to make us forget that the drought was not over; in February of 1993, finally, it was called to a halt. The day-to-day world we lived in didn't look like it had been suffering from a lack of water. It was business-as-usual in California: in the face of seven-year drought, in the middle of a virtual desert, we maintained our oases of green lawns, swimming pools, and thirsty darkrooms. The only noticeable glitch, dead and confused eucalyptus trees, were created not by the drought, but by the freeze of December 1991.
In the foothill valleys, containers formed by dams and hillsides provided another story. The reservoirs of California, made to store water and provide electricity, also serve as playgrounds for all types of water enthusiasts. Out of sight and out of the minds of most of us, these "lakes" showed their thirst during those rain-deprived years. Once full of water, they now contained only hope, waiting for another time of abundant rain and mountain snow.
As the water level dropped in these unnatural lakes, the stripping of the landscape that preceded them revealed itself. Then the trees, thought to be drowned deeply enough that they'd never feel the air again, rose like ghosts out of the depths of dirt-walled puddles. Ironically, the dirt-walled puddles still attracted the water-bugs. In spite of "hanging" launch ramps, grounded marinas, and stump-filled waters, the boaters and skiers continued to play.
This is what the drought looked like in 1988 and 1990, in case you missed it, here in the oasis.
