Tuesday, September 21, 2010

It's Not All Desert



This is the Tropicana Wash as it flows behind the Target on Flamingo.

While I was moving into the apartment complex, some other tenants and I grew concerned about a duck which appeared to be stranded on the third floor of the parking garage near a large puddle.

We didn't need to be concerned.   Apparently, he was just checking out our cool 'plex before going back to join his crew.

3 comments:

Aquatic Scum said...

Crap! I left the fucking hose on in my garden again!

But seriously, there is the small spring in Red Rock Canyon with the protected snails, the now dried up artesia wells the Springs Preserves sits on, and literally HUNDREDS or THOUSANDS of private water wells around the valley.

The water from the Spring and Sheep mountains has to go through or under the Vegas Valley to get to the Colorado River.

Pumping has dropped the water table considerably but in some areas it is less than 100 feet....as long as I turn the garden hose off before it overflows.

I researched the water table and qua;ity while I was looking for a house because at least one had a well.

Why do you think the city we live in is named "The Meadows"?

I used to be a wellfield engineer in a former life.

Furst!

Lavi D. said...



Scum, I thought of you when I was posting these pics.

All the green stuff in the water that doesn't have leaves is, well, scum.

I can't imagine how many different kinds of sick you would get if you were to drink a handful of this water, even though it looks so clear and clean.

Heart Growth Crap Scum said...

You might not get sick at all.

If you consytantly ingest toxins you could develop a natural resist like our friends the mighty Cockroach.

Or you could end up at the Mayo Clinic getting weird crap cut out of your heart.

Hard to say.


Every now and then when your life gets complicated and the weasels start closing in, the only cure is to load up on heinous chemicals and then drive like a bastard from Hollywood to Las Vegas ... with the music at top volume and at least a pint of ether.

-Hunter S. Thompson


Dedicated to the other side of Las Vegas, namely; the sprawling, mad, incoherent underpinnings of the world's favorite destination.

That, and the occasional ranting about nothing in particular.