Summers here in Phoenix, Arizona are brutal. Temps soar up into hundred-teens (110°+) and sometimes into the hundred-twenties. Sure, we can dash from air-conditioned house to air-conditioned car and back again, but it takes time to bring the car temp down to a breathable level.
In late July, the humidity creeps up into the 50 percentile and higher adding sticky to the unbearable heat. My hair gets kinkier than a fundamentalist preacher with a rent-boy.
And then when I think I can’t stand it any longer, the winds shift, bringing heavy clouds up from Mexico. We call it the monsoons. Crazy winds. Blinding dust storms. Lightning. And, if we’re lucky, rain.
It’s been my tradition since moving here from Atlanta nearly 15 years ago to celebrate the first rain by walking outside and getting soaked to the bone. I welcome the rain. The sudden drop in temps. The sweet scented breezes. And the wonderful water from heaven.
Today the monsoon began. Of course, I helped it along by getting my car washed earlier this afternoon. A few hours later, the clouds roll in and the magic happens.
Of course, October is still a few months off. That’s when the daily temps drop below a hundred. But for now, we have the rain. And I am ecstatic.
From my house I can smell the horse stables a mile away as well as creosote and sage from neighboring yards. When it rains I can tell what the air would smell like here if not for exhaust and asphalt.
I love the rain as well. Thank you for washing your car and bringing it on. When it rains I like to go out and play in it as well.