An "Artisian Aquifer" is a confined aquifer containing groundwater under positive pressure. This causes the water level to rise, resulting in cold, pure, free flowing springs.
When I was a kid, growing up, it seemed that anywhere we drove in the valley, Dad knew where a road side artisian well could be found. On a hot, dry summer day, we would pull over, lean down, and parch our thirst with the purest, coldest water. In my adult years, I knew of only 3 remaining, - now only 2 as one near me has been capped and sealed forever.
Dad showed me black and white photos of Artisian Wells that ran year around in an area he grew up called Nortonville. These photos showed free spouting wells that would rise 6 or 7 feet, then winter freeze them in place, but continued water pressure would rise through these frozen obelisks, freeze more, etc., so that by February some of them were looking like frozen Old Faithful spouts: ice that extended upwards of 20 feet or more. I never saw that, this was before my time. But having these few remaining wells here - remind me of time before large pivot circle sprinkler systems put in by nearby farmers took down the lever and pressure of these free flowing wells. Some Springtimes, they simply do not come back, so low is the underground aquifers now. Some Springtimes, they do. This photo is one between home, LaJara, and Alamosa. It came back this Spring. It will dry up soon. So I stop, take a drink of water, often when I pass it. Because.... not all good things last forever.
Be Well. Do Good.
By word of side note: as a small child, riding home from Alamosa with my Aunt Doris and her daughter, my cousin LaNae,
it was discovered that the gas tank of the car was near empty. I must have been only 4 or 5, but I remember the urgency and worry: here this woman was with 2 small children, the weather was horrid, and risk of running out of gas.
Aunt Doris pulled over here, told us to close our eyes and bow our heads, and that she would offer a prayer to ask for sufficient fuel to drive the remaining 10 miles home. We did. She did. We arrived home, coasting into the front yard. I've never forgotten that first lesson in exercising faith. She was a wonderful woman, she taught me to read and to love reading. She was too good for this world, hence, she was taken early: in her mid 40's. I still miss her.
Be Well. Do Good.
By word of side note: as a small child, riding home from Alamosa with my Aunt Doris and her daughter, my cousin LaNae,
it was discovered that the gas tank of the car was near empty. I must have been only 4 or 5, but I remember the urgency and worry: here this woman was with 2 small children, the weather was horrid, and risk of running out of gas.
Aunt Doris pulled over here, told us to close our eyes and bow our heads, and that she would offer a prayer to ask for sufficient fuel to drive the remaining 10 miles home. We did. She did. We arrived home, coasting into the front yard. I've never forgotten that first lesson in exercising faith. She was a wonderful woman, she taught me to read and to love reading. She was too good for this world, hence, she was taken early: in her mid 40's. I still miss her.
Be Well. Do Good.
