Water, Water Everywhere

 

     Water, water, every where,

     And all the boards did shrink;

     Water, water, every where,

     Nor any drop to drink.

          My morning shower had me asking the question yet again to myself:

What’s up with the water here in Florida?

          The rain cascading out of the brand-new shower head in the brand-new bathroom has a smell. In my experience, water isn’t supposed to smell. And I quickly learned on my first 2 a.m. bathroom run and drink of water to a) let the faucet run for a bit and b) to breathe through my mouth.  The tap water here is pretty nasty.

          On the surface, Floridians appear to have water harnessed.

Every condo and housing development incorporates water features in one form or another. There are inlets and tiny bays from the sea, and fresh-water ponds all sporting fountains. The builders must have been pulling a page from medieval times; no sword-toting hoards would ever get very close to the landowners here – just about everything is surrounded by its own moat. The swamp land of those earlier flim-flam men has evolved into vast stretches of stucco homes looking out on sparkling pools.

          I’ve always avoided buying water if I can. I’m old enough that the idea still seems a bit absurd, akin to going to the store for a tank of air. Living in Massachusetts with our own sweet well water is probably also a factor. Still, we work hard for that water; back home we pay attention to predictions of possible drought, dealing as we do with a shallow well thanks to the granite ledge of our small mountain. If we can manage to pull tasty H20 from the rocky soil of New England, why can’t Florida, with its abundance of the stuff, provide a product suitable for something other than washing your feet after a day at the beach?