I’ll never forget the first time I stumbled across a flowing artesian well.  It was midnight and I was twenty, fresh off a shift at my call center job. No twenty-year-old wants to stagger home and hit the sack right after work, so in those days I’d go explore the countryside by car. One night, with no idea where I was, I slowly crossed an iron bridge and found myself staring at a pair of enormous boulders that -I swear- had water spewing out of them. At that moment, I felt as though I had stumbled upon a biblical miracle.