Eighty-Eight Degrees

The water in the cement pond is eighty-eight degrees. That's a new high for this year. Of course, we've had temperatures in three digits for as long as I seem to remember, so this shouldn't be news. But still, eighty-eight degrees in the swimming pool means lots of pool time. Shari swims for a half hour or hour. Tom dips more than he swims, but he is mucho alegre.

We are hunkering down for our expedition to South Alaska (Puget Sound), and we are looking forward to the cool weather.  Even more, we are looking forward to family and friends -- like big time. I hope we pack enough warm clothes.

But we'll miss the swimming pool. Island Athletic Club is going to have to serve Shari. It's heated, no?

The Rain Show

Our first summer month here, and it was only a month, I found myself having some cabin fever by the fourth week. The outside heat during the day was discouraging. I began to appreciate why you don't see many Tucsonans working or sitting in their yards. Still, we enjoyed that summer month so much that we decided to move here permanently.

There is something about warm or even hot evenings spent in a swimming pool, and the gentle light and cool exhilaration of mornings.

A couple of evenings ago we had heavy rainfall in our area. The night before, it fell to the west of us and we got nothing. Weather is very local here.

It's amazing to watch the weather come in, typically from the east. Light, fluffy clouds form, then a dark, solid, ominous cloud that covers the horizon, slowly advancing to block the sun. In the distance, to the south, you see similar clouds with the vertically striated shadow that is their rain falling down. The air starts to feel thick and moist.

One evening I gazed at clouds advancing over and in front of the Catalinas that is our view in back, to the north. A flimsy line of clouds led the parade. They looked like the lenticular formations that you see over the high Cascade volcanos, like Rainier and Baker: slender, stretched clouds formed by moist air driven up over the mountain elevation. These fleecy clouds looked like mist rising from the Catalina foothills. As they moved east, they disappeared. Behind them was the dark, solid and heavy mass of cloud, moving slowly towards us.

The leading edge of these storms produce strong gusts of wind, often coming from all directions, tearing branches off trees, blowing debris into my cement pond, and toppling furniture.  There is lightening followed by thunder. Then the occasional heavy drop of water. Finally a heavy, tropical downpour floods the back of the house and the driveway in front.

So I have been feeling cooped up during the days, hiding inside the cool cave of a house, windows shuttered and curtained. Then this storm comes a couple of evenings ago. I go outside and just stare. It's way better than television. I sit in the wicker chairs in front, rain spraying on my legs, gazing at the spectacle and listening to the sounds. Clouds, wind, rain, lightning and thunder. Creeks flowing, branches flying, torrents flowing out the wall scuppers and over the front of the roof. The intoxicating smell of rain.

I realize that the hot days are well worth enduring to experience such fierce beauty.

Spidey

We've actually had some rain this week, about a half an inch. Funny how obsessed we are with rain in the desert, the flip side of being obsessed with rain in Puget Sound.  Here it's new. There it's old.

Little critters come out with the rain. This little tarantula was hanging around the pillows of the bed/sofa in our backyard. I've also seen them working in the yard.  I was working; they were moving out of the way.

They move quite deliberately. I tried to shoo this one away by slapping pillows near it and blowing on it, but it simply climbed on the wall and hung around the window. Not even camera flashes bothered it.

Early morning light & Mexican bird of paradise flowers

They live longer than most dogs. Male tarantulas live ten to twelve years; females double that. Anything that lives so many years has to have some smarts. They eat bugs and small lizards, so they are welcome.

But spidey is not so welcome in the heap of pillows on our outside sofa. After my refreshing swim in the cement pond (86 deg.), spidey was still sitting by the window  —  quite calmly to all appearances. Time for the broom, I thought, but gently. Spidey hardly moved, then climbed aboard. Daddy took him over the wall and dropped Spidey outside. Happy ending!