Linda Crew

We have to dig a well at Plunkett Creek, one of our tree farm properties. It’s silly, actually. We have no intention of building, but in order to maintain the right to build, we have to go ahead and do it. I wonder if the people who made these laws thought of these consequences--ugly and perhaps unoccupied white trailers parked here and there, blighting the forest zones of Oregon. They’re place savers. Why can’t we just have a legal paper stating the property is buildable sometime in the future? Since that doesn’t seem to compute, and we’ve paid a price reflecting the right to build, we must build to protect our investment.

As the self-appointed Director of Cute of this operation of ours, I have vetoed the ugly trailer bit and hope, for the same money, to have some locals build a little cabin. Even the smallest picnic house requires all the services.

Thus, the well. Yesterday we went up to the Kings Valley property with our timber manager, David Brinker, and watched him do the witching. My husband and I both held the witching wires and felt them go nuts over the spot where David said we’d find water.

I thought it was exciting and magical, but last night I went on line and found nothing but material debunking the whole idea of water witching. No proof ever of it working, they say. And lots of stories of people doing just what we did, holding the wires where X marks the spot and claiming they’d felt them move in a decisive way. These people were not being written of with admiration!

But everybody, including David, has stories of having found the water with witching and coming up dry when the witching process was bypassed.

So, next week, we’ll drill. I want to watch. I can’t wait to see if David’s right. Stay tuned! I promise an honest report of happens.