I got my magazine yesterday, and have read the editorial and half the letters. I hope to have time to read it tomorrow.
My hunting camp has a spring, about 50 yards from where I pitch my tent. It is just a pipe thrust into the hillside, which at some point got a treatment of flagstones which are sadly dwindling. The water drops about 18 or 20 inches into a gravelly little pool. Do not, for any reason, mess with the natural filter of moss on the pipe's mouth. It will cough up mud for a good twenty minutes.
I go and visit the Spring as soon as camp is mostly up. She will keep me amply supplied with cold water that tastes better than Deer Park for the length of my visit. I drink it without boiling, have done so for about 26 years. I am bonded with that Spring, and think on her often. She flows down the mountain, and eventually past my citified home as bits of Potomac River. She supplies me, body, soul and mind, with good, pure, invigorating liquid meditation.
Adding this water to any beverage raises it a notch closer to perfect. Matter of fact, I believe it to be God's Own Elixir. Too bad Ron put his camp so far away from it.
Killdeer~ getting misty just thinking about her.