4th of July Show

It was an unbelievably intense show last night, the Fourth of July, and it had little to do with any fireworks. Mother Nature in the form of a severe monsoon storm gave us a stupendous, late afternoon drama.

The obvious clue was the dark clouds advancing from the east. Even so, we were not prepared for the powerful gusts of wind that swirled in every direction. Eucalyptus branches were flung onto saguaros where they clung to the spikes. Our classically beautiful blue agave flower spike, the proud subject of an earlier blog, is now lying down on the driveway, blown over by successive gusts. The enclosure I built for the vegetable garden, the proud subject of another earlier blog, got blown over on its side. We lost a clay pot, blown over. Bits and pieces of Aleppo pine everywhere, mostly in the pool.

The rain was unusually heavy. Then we realized that the bouncing rain drops were really pieces of hail -- Ice falling from the sky. In the thick of the storm, we thought we'd look out the back door. It was like opening a hatch in a submerged submarine: nothing but water coming in sideways. We leaned into the door and shut it.

The driveway was completely flooded. The little swale to the west, hardly a couple of hundred feet long, had a torrent of water.

Staring at the Storm.

For some reason unknown to us from Puget Sound, houses in Tucson are not designed with rain in mind. Our backyard, all covered in concrete and paving bricks, slopes towards the house. The four doors that open into the backyard are exactly at ground level. With any decent amount of rain, two of the doors, by our TV room and the kitchen, flood immediately. Some years back I cut some 1x2 wood and glued them down with adhesive caulk to form dams outside these two doors. When it rains hard, I am out there with my shop broom sweeping water away from the house. Actually, it's kinda fun, if a little humid.

I like to joke that if you don't like the weather here, wait a couple of hours. The storm blew over and it became eerily quiet, with beautiful reddish light as the sun descended lower and lower.

Guests began arriving for our Fourth of July outdoor extravaganza. It was no small act of courage to get here, driving around flooded streets. But we have good friends, and we all enjoyed sitting outside enjoying the cooled, damp air. The desert smells wonderful in the rain.

Fireworks on A-Mountain pale in
comparison to the divine lightning,
thunder, wind, hail, flying debris
and awakened critter show. 

People had been worried about fireworks starting fires in the tinder dry desert. That turned out to be not a problem. But fireworks were a little scaled down. We got some more rain - the drizzle-drop kind that Puget Sounders are all too familiar with - during the show. But it was the sound of a baby animal crying that interested us. What was that noise?

Armed with flashlights, we looked around the goldfish pond and discovered two frogs. Where do these guys come from? It's amazing here in the desert. One good rainfall and critters you haven't seen in a year come out of nowhere. One frog was making all that noise.

The odd crying-croaking noise continued off and on throughout the night. By morning there were frog eggs deposited in various places around the swimming pool. I could find none in the pond. Did the goldfish eat them? Their bellies were pretty big this morning. Or do frogs prefer chlorinated water for their "act"?

Shari got up first this morning. She used the net to pull four frogs out of the swimming pool and deposit them on the other side of the wall. An hour later, I found another five in the pool. They are well camouflaged. Some looked dead, belly up on the swimming pool bottom. But a few minutes after shaking them from the net outside the wall, they start reviving.

So much clean-up left. It's hopeless to think about raising the blue agave stalk. Garbage cans are already stuffed with yard waste, made even heavier with rainwater. It will take many hours for the kreepy krawler to suck the fine debris off the pool bottom.

A rain gauge a little up the hill registered an inch and a quarter. (Check out http://rainlog.org/usprn/html/main/maps.jsp) Down by the Rillito River, gauges registered a half and inch to an inch. All weather here is very local. Go a few hundred yards and the rainfall will differ greatly. I reckon we got about an inch, judging from the increased level in the swimming pool and subtracting some for the debris and frogs floating and sunk in it.

The forecast is for monsoon rains each afternoon this week. I have to charge my camera batteries.

Rain on the 82nd Day

It rained early this morning in Tucson, heavily enough that it woke me up at three-thirty. What a nice sound, lots of heavy drops on the roof! There were frequent flashes of lightning, occasionally close enough to hear the thunder. I ran outside to put mats, pillows, and a mattress under cover.

The vegetation must be happy. Chlorinated tap water from Colorado does not make things grow nearly as well as sweet rainwater. Soon we will be finding frogs in the cement pond.

April 10 was our last rainfall, so Tucson airport went 81 days without rain, tying for the fourth longest dry spell.

Waiting for the Monsoon

Seventy-seven days without rain. The record is a hundred (2002), but today we are already #8 on the all-time list. However, there have been a few whispy clouds the last couple of days, and the humidity has increased noticeably.

Today the clouds are large and we have partial overcast. The monsoon pattern is brewing, the desert heat pulling in moist air from the Gulf of Mexico over the Sierra Madres.

Local weather experts predict a one-third chance of a heavy rain monsoon season, one-third chance of a dryer than usual monsoon season, and about a one-third chance of an average rainy season.

Inshallah, we will have rains on the Fourth of July.

Desert Bounty, Desert People

There is something in the desert that brings out a sense of spirit more than other, temperate areas. Perhaps it's the awe of a land so exposed to the sun, or the many specialized ways in which life has adapted to the dry, sun-drenched heat.

We helped celebrate the desert last night at our neighbor's annual desert bounty pot luck dinner featuring foods harvested from the desert. Saguaro fruit sauces, sauteed palo verde peas, tepary bean humus, mesquite flour flavored flan, cholla buds, and margaritas. Oh, and grilled chicken and filet mignon.

With us was a traditional spiritualist from the Tohono O'odham, the Desert People. The sun having set, our small gathering sat outside by the pool in the warm air. Joseph is what I would call a shaman, an elder with deep Catholic roots. He sang a traditional song for us from the Akimel O'odham (River People) who live by the Gila River. That song and his voice, accompanied by the oscillating sound of a gourd rattle shaken in circles, resonated with the vibrations of every land and every people. Thai Buddhist chanting was there, as were ancestral voices, Tibetan shamans, dream-time spirits, and plain song prayer.

We each spoke something about what the desert means to us, then he sang another traditional chant, this time from the people the Spanish named after the butterfly, Spanish "mariposa", which became Maricopa. The sounds and vibrations coaxed from the rattle were even more varied and provoking. All juxtaposed over a warm evening, bare feet dangling in the swimming pool. It's like stepping away from time and place.

Desert Flowers

If you would like to see some photos of flowers blooming here in the Tucson area, click on the "Desert Flowers" link that's on the very top right of the main blog page, under "pages".

No words, just images.

Want to See a Rattlesnake?

I suspected that a rattlesnake was living somewhere on the other side of the driveway. A couple of years back we noticed a skin sluffed off by the rocks that line the bottom of the swale. Then a few weeks ago I was clearing dead parts of the oleander bushes by the driveway, the effects of this winter's 17 degree freeze. I saw another skin just outside a hole burrowed by some oleander roots. It was that same burrow where this morning's Mr. Rattler retreated.

This morning I was watering the oleander when I saw Mr. Rattler moving through the dead leaves and puddles of water.  I must admit, the snake looked pretty cool. I had to remind myself that the thing could be dangerous, so I ran inside and called Shari, "Hey! You want to see a rattlesnake?" We took photos and video.

Shari wanted to call Rural Metro to have them come out and remove the snake. We pay a fee so we have that service available. I figure it's been there all this time, so why bother? But we'll probably call Rural Metro.

About an hour later, I'm in another area, also on the same east side of the house, clearing undergrowth, pruning dead and odd growth, and pulling off mistletoe that's choking trees. Again I am watering, this time the stressed acacias and palo verdes that screen us from our neighbor's driveway. I see a king snake hustling towards what I had suspected was another legless reptilian hangout.

Hey, at least we have that gate protected. Come on, Mr. King. Go chase Mr. Rattler away.

The Trouble with Outside

Lizard disturbed from the shoe rack.

Outside is not such an issue in Puget Sound. Most of the year you avoid it. And when you do venture outside, what you encounter in the way of fauna and flora is pretty benign.

Here in the Sonora Desert, there are lots of critters that can be or appear a little unpleasant. Lizards, snakes, coyotes and javalina are benign to humans, unless you provoke them. One needs to pay attention.

I almost stepped on a rattlesnake on one hike in the hills around here. Fortunately, hiking time here is early in the morning when it's still cool. And rattlesnakes are still lethargic. The one I almost stepped on never bothered to stir. But boy, were my eyes ever keenly looking ahead after that.

The rattler I almost stepped on.

So the trouble here with outside the house is that little animals live outside, and most like the shade and protection of anything you put outside. You have to bear in mind what might crawl under or behind. Take the little shoe rack I made for the front door. Sure enough, Mr. Lizard, some eight inches of him (her?) thinks that's a wonderful place to hang out and wait for bugs, reptilian lunch. Reach in for my flip-flops and out scampers Mr. Lizard. Would a slimy, slow moving slug be worse?

Medium sized king snake in our backyard, about four or
five feet long. "Nice snakey, snakey."
We had a much larger king snake living by our goldfish pond.

Some guests, while a little frightening, are actually honored guests around our home. Chief among them is any king snake. They don't bother people. They like to eat rattlers even longer than themselves. So where there is a king snake, a rattler will not want to be. Now that's okay.