Page 10 - magazine Spring 2011-1_Neat
P. 10

by  Aaron Leifheit

    I
          awoke a few months ago to an unexpected downpour outside my Las Vegas window.  When I got to work at Red
    Rock Canyon, the storm was washing rocks over the road and I was regretting my habit of neglecting my windshield
    wipers.  Seven days later, the rain stopped.



    Large storms are rare in Red Rock Canyon and Las Vegas.  This is because the
    towering Sierra Nevada Mountains lie directly to our west and these barriers

    block rain clouds from reaching us.  Lying near the base of the nation’s largest
    mountains also puts us right in the middle of the country’s hottest and driest
    desert which means we only receive a scant 4.5 inches of rain a year.  This
    highlights a key fact about life in the desert:  Southern Nevada is a region defined
    by weather and the weather is defined by rain.



    Streams, springs and ponds are so common in most parts of the country that they
    are taken for granted.  Here they are rare, and by their rarity become special.  A

    muddy slough in the desert becomes Mississippian in stature!  A dusting of snow becomes Antarctic in ferocity!   A
    common sprinkle is enough to bring all ages outside, sandal clad, to stare at the few puffy clouds in the blue sky.


    Once the rare rain falls, it settles into the mountains, seeping slowly downward, finally emerging years later through a
    spring.  That slow downward percolation also ensures that stored water will continue to flow even in dry times.  Desert

    springs are survivors and their hidden permanence means that life will continue here, under the harsh sun, for the
    foreseeable future.

                                                                                   Lush, green, quiet, alive, it seemed to be the
                            I fell in love with the Red Rock Canyon





                                    when I stumbled upon my                 pulsing lifeblood of the desert.  A




                                                       first spring.           tiny trickle of water, barely visible, was the
                                                                            hidden thread that held together and
                                                                            sustained a whole community of living
                                                                            things.  Springs seem  to contain power not
                                                                            related to their size.
                                                                            This hidden power of water was on full

                                                                            display in mid-December.  Five inches of
                                                                            rain fell, more than the Mojave Desert’s
                                                                            yearly average.  It saturated the soil, formed
    puddles and ran together into greater and greater streams until waterfalls cascaded from every high spot in the canyon.


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