Sweating It Out
How I survived a course in desert survival.
How I survived a course in desert survival.
A rain windfall in the Hill Country
Why farmers and big-city folk are at war over water. Plus: Jane Nelson for comptroller?
Roberts County landowners are battling to save the Ogallala Aquifer—and what remains of their agrarian past.
THE SHOCK WAVES ARE BEGINNING to be felt from the Texas Water Commission’s decision that the Edwards Aquifer is an underground river—meaning that surface owners can’t use its water without a permit. Another state agency, the Water Development Board, was quick to dust off the old idea of transferring water
From the YMCA pool to the ocean blue, I’ve always been at peace in the deep.
Candelaria’s only well supplied free water to all until the EPA weighed in.
Trans-Pecos ranchers grapple with El Paso over the West’s most valuable resource.
Pipeline leaks, unplugged wells, toxic drilling materials, and a virtually unregulated oil industry are leaving a legacy of polluted groundwater.
But for this ever-so-practical invention, Texas history as we know it would be gone with the wind.
One man’s obsession with kicking Perrier in the derriere.
Cool, clear, and pure, it’s the bounty of the Edwards Aquifer, and if something isn’t done to limit pumping by Hill Country farmers and a thirsty San Antonio, it may also be dry.
Yes, it’s muddy, it’s treacherous, and it smells bad enough to gag a skunk; but it’s also the only thing between us and Oklahoma.
The issues in El Paso’s colonias are watery and grave.
In parts of Texas drought is a steady boarder who may stray but always comes home for supper.
A photographic study on beating the heat.
When the summer heat starts to get to you, cool your heels by plunging into an icy green swimming hole.
The cattle are dying, the grass is gone, the ranchers are selling their land. The center of Texas is in a drought that may be the worst in a hundred years.
Sure it means water. It also means pride.