This is the title I chose for my personal blog, which is meant to give me an outlet for one of my favorite crafts – writing – plus to use an image from my favorite sport, golf.  Out of college, my first job was as a reporter for the Daily Astorian in Astoria, Oregon, and I went on from there to practice writing in all my professional positions, including as press secretary in Washington, D.C. for a Democrat Congressman from Oregon (Les AuCoin), as an Oregon state government manager in Salem and Portland, as press secretary for Oregon’s last Republican governor (Vic Atiyeh), and as a private sector lobbyist.  This blog also allows me to link another favorite pastime – politics and the art of developing public policy – to what I write.  I could have called this blog “Middle Ground,” for that is what I long for in both politics and golf.  The middle ground is often where the best public policy decisions lie.  And it is where you want to be on a golf course.

At least the headline applies in Oregon.

With all our rainfall, we have a lot of water available to catch and use.

Why don’t we do it?

The same question could be asked about California where my wife, our dog, and I live in the winter. 

With last year’s drought in mind, why don’t officials in California devise ways to catch rainfall or snow runoff to stem a future drought, especially when what are called “atmospheric rivers” form nearly every week and drop inches of rain on formerly parched land?  Even as the snowpack expands.

When we drive south and north along I-5, the water issue is driven home by all the farms that need water, not to mention the advocates who blast state and federal officials for emphasizing “environmental” uses of water over farming.

This came to mind for me when I read a story in the New York times a few days ago.  Words by reporter Nick Aspinwall appeared under this headline: “Millions lack access to running water.  Is the solution hiding in plain sight?”

Here is how Aspinall started his reporting:

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“In the 1980s, Brad Lancaster in Tucson, Arizona, started making illegal cuts into curbs in his Dunbar Springs neighborhood here, allowing storm water to flow into street side basins to water native plants and shade trees.

“Lancaster, a longtime rainwater advocate in Arizona, was inspired by rain farmers using ancient practices to catch, filter and re-route rainwater for drinking, household use and landscaping.

“The result is a desert oasis where couples walk their dogs under shade trees and wildflowers bursting along the sidewalks — and the beginnings of a movement that has helped make Tucson a pioneer in rain catching.

“As the Southwest faces a historic megadrought that imperils the water sources it’s always relied upon, a growing number of Arizonans — from the Navajo and Hopi lands to the state’s parched desert cities — are turning to the practice.

“It’s a movement that extends beyond the United States, to monsoon-drenched southern India. Advocates say that in even the driest towns and cities, rain farming has the potential to erase projected water deficits in the decades to come.

“Rainwater should be the primary water source of everyone’s household.”

And, here are excerpts from the Times story, which drive home the point:

• Lancaster, who said rain fulfills nearly all the water needs in his Tucson home, said the same can be true for the city:  If collected, he said, the 11 inches of average annual rainfall in Tucson could supply all of its municipal water needs.  Studies elsewhere have shown capturing even a fraction of rainwater could eliminate drinking water shortages and recharge groundwater basins.

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• Perhaps no city has encouraged the practice more than Tucson, which launched first-of-its-kind rainwater harvesting installation mandates in 2008 and rebate programs in 2012 as part of its goal to become carbon neutral by 2030.  “I don’t think we should be using the Colorado River as our checking account,” Lancaster said.
• Rainwater can be actively caught from rooftops that send it down gutters into giant cisterns, or tanks, where it’s filtered before it’s used for drinking, showering and other household needs. It can also be harvested passively, using simple reconfigurations of earth to create slopes and basins and irrigate gardens without requiring expensive equipment.
• Melinda O’Daniel was born on Navajo land, where for centuries, families raised cattle and grew crops by catching and diverting rainwater.  Her husband, Wayne, grew up in a place called Big Mountain atop Black Mesa, straddling the Navajo and Hopi reservations, where he remembers dozens of springs that supplied water to his family of ranchers.
• Rainwater harvesting has caught on within an off-grid subculture in the rural Southwest that prefers finding independent sources of water and energy.  But in the United States and the world at large, it’s rarely been harnessed as municipal policy.  Colorado even banned rainwater collection until 2016, and it still imposes restrictions on how much homeowners can keep.
• The push for catching more rainwater extends beyond the United States, which can learn from both successes and setbacks across the globe. In 2001, the Indian state of Tamil Nadu passed a sweeping rainwater catchment mandate for all new buildings.

So, if we as citizens – not to mention public officials – are smart, we will draft plans to capture what Mother Nature provides, which, in this instance, is water.

Why not take advantage of it?