Some women collect designer purses while others have boxes of expensive shoes. Some stock their jewelry boxes with sparkling treasures collected over a lifetime.
There are those men who race around in fancy cars or spend every spare hour chasing a little white golf ball around expensive courses.
HHH and I are not those people.
We
Garden
At
Winterpast.
And let me assure you, gardening in the Nevada desert is not for the financially faint of heart.
This week, our water bill arrived.
I should have known trouble was coming when the envelope felt heavier than usual.
Last year, our May water usage was twice this year’s. This year, we were gone for half of May on vacation. The weather was cooler than normal. It rained. It frosted. The sprinklers spent much of the month taking an unexpected vacation.
Apparently, the City did not receive the memo because our water bill doubled.
Studying the numbers several times, we were convinced there must be some mistake. Surely using half as much water should result in a smaller bill.
That would seem logical.
Instead, I discovered that logic and utility billing maintain a casual, non-dependent relationship.
The projections for August’s water budget are now moving from “expensive” into “ridiculous” territory. And, quite possibly even “sit down before you open it” territory.
These kinds of bills require a cup of coffee, a deep breath, and perhaps a brief prayer.
Still, none of this came as a complete surprise.
When buying Winterpast in April 2020, a bargain was made with the plants. Water is precious in the desert. Every green lawn, every blooming flower bed, every shade tree and rose bush exists because somebody watered them.
Nothing grows here by accident.
Life on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada requires investment. Sometimes that investment comes in the form of a utility bill large enough to make a grown adult whimper.
Winerpast will survive, as HHH heads outside with a hose in hand, making sure every sprout has enough to drink.
The roses are blooming.
The robins continue to nest.
The trees cast their welcome shade over summer afternoons.
The lawn grows thick and green against a backdrop of sagebrush and sand.
And Winterpast continues to thrive as an oasis in the middle of the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada.
That matters.
Life matters.
Beauty matters.
Everyone spends their money somewhere.
Some people buy boats.
Some buy jewelry.
Some buy golf clubs.
We buy flowers, shade, and bird habitat.
Grass for bare feet.
We buy a place where life flourishes.
Frankly, there are worse investments than water.
Fortunately, this water bill will not take food off the table. The dishwasher will continue its faithful service. Our clothes will remain freshly laundered. HHH will continue watering. I will continue planting things that probably cost more than they should. Life at Winterpast will continue on as it always has.
For now, however, the flowers win.
After all, water may be expensive in the desert.
But a life without beauty would cost far more.
Now, if these water bills ever begin competing with cruise dollars, HHH and I may need to have a serious conversation.
Because while we dearly love our roses, we’re always searching for the next gangway onto a ship headed anywhere on the open seas.
— Joy McIntyre
Writing is Life