Summer has officially arrived. Here in southern Arizona, the temperatures have been climbing into the triple digits for weeks. I’m taking my morning walk as soon as it gets light—before 5 am—and the temperature is usually already in the 80s. When I get back, I take my breakfast out onto the porch to enjoy a symphony of birdsong and watch antelope squirrels climb palo verde trees to harvest seeds. Then, I retreat indoors for the day, grateful for the air conditioning that my parents didn’t have, living here in Tucson as teens and college students nearly 70 years ago!
People I see in person for spiritual guidance have mostly left for cooler locations in northern Arizona, so our meetings are happening via Zoom or by phone. Several friends are taking driving trips, either to visit family and friends or to return to homes in other parts of the country.
Last week, some rainstorms arrived, bringing precious moisture to the desert after months of clear blue skies. Rumors abound of a Super El Niño, a mixed blessing that could bring hotter temperatures, a delayed monsoon season, and more monsoon rains—which means more potential for flooding.
Growing up in Albuquerque, New Mexico, I remember the thrill of summer monsoon rains. I can still recall the darkening of afternoon skies beyond the cottonwood trees and wondering whether the storm would bring measurable precipitation or just what we called a “three-inch rain”: three inches between the drops!
Where I live now, I have a good view of the skies over downtown Tucson. When storms come through, I sometimes see lightning—or am blessed with a rainbow like the one pictured above.
Summer rhythms in the Sonoran Desert are very different from other areas of this large and varied country. What memories arise for you as summer arrives? What images catch your attention as we move beyond the solstice and into the summer season?
I too grew up in this area, Phoenix to be exact. Our very close neighbors put a pool in their backyard and we kids had lots of fun playing in it the day they filled it with water. We contributed a couple of our hoses and played in the deep end until the water got deeper and deeper. After that day, we mostly swam at night when it was cool enough to enjoy being outside. We could then go to bed feeling cool and refreshed. People adapt to the conditions!
Thank you, Aston, for sharing this lovely memory of the pool being filled! We do adapt, and I understand about swimming at night. When my aunt and uncle got married in Phoenix when I was a teen, we swam in the hotel pool at something like 10 pm, which was a big deal for me back then!
Peace,
Shirin
Lightning…. I had NEVER seen lightning like what I witnessed in Tucson. As a kid growing up in Florida and living through thunderstorms I grew afraid of lightning. It knocked over young pine trees in our yard and struck our home once when I was home alone. I still remember hiding under my parents’ bed frantically trying to stretch the phone cord to my hiding place to encourage my mom to come home from work ASAP.
In Arizona, the lightning was different. Majestic, powerful, distant, and a thing of beauty that never evoked fear in me. Funny how our perspectives change. I had a dear friend who owned one of those coveted mountain view and city view homes. Sitting on the ramada and watching a storm roll in: treasured memory.
Oh, Joyce, thank you for sharing your treasured memory–and the more traumatic one from your youth. Yes, the lightning in Tucson is definitely dramatic and majestic. I’m glad that experience helped transform (or at least overlay) your youthful experience….
Peace,
Shirin
We live in the interior of British Columbia—The Okanagan Valley, North of Spokane.
Folklore suggests it’s still part of the Sonoran Desert, it’s not!
But it is semi-arid grasslands, we have an amazing variety of grasses.
The storms here are frightening because they always bring the threat of fire. We haven’t had to evacuate but we are always ready to go. I love this time of year, I love the rain, but it also brings fear that we’ll have a fire in our community.
Oh my, Damien…yes, fire is definitely an aspect of summer you can’t afford to ignore. We’ve already had small fires here, and we’re under a heat watch as I type this. Fascinating that folks see a connection with the Sonoran Desert up there in BC!
Stay safe!
Peace,
Shirin