Monsoon manifestations

I had just read an article about NOAA (one of my absolute favourite federal agencies) predicting an above average monsoon season this year, when I looked out the kitchen window to see beautiful dark grey green liquorice clouds building in the west, intensifying all the colours.

Thunder started to rumble. Doves were unperturbed. This is why the 14th century Spanish name for the place where I tend a garden was Ojo Caliente de las Palomas. It really is a hotspring of doves. A fountain of doves and doves always at the fountain.

We were treated to a (very brief) deluge. Beautiful pounding rain, even three hailstones. Visibility shrank.

Turtleback mountain disappeared.

Then came back. Anyone up for a game of peek-a-boo with the resident volcanic cone? Monsoon storms, when they happen here in the desert, make everything dance regardless of whether animal, vegetable or mineral. All earthly beings sing. Rain in the desert is when we possess the meaning of joy.

In less than seven minutes it was over, leaving just that amazing petrichor. No floodwaters (this time). No need to build a boat or send those forementioned doves out for olive branches.

Rainbows will suffice. Welcome back, monsoon storms. I’ve been waiting for you

It was just on two tenths of an inch, this first, early monsoon storm, delivered very quickly and with much splashing.

The hellscape Chilopsis linearis (Desert Willow) immediately opened buds, releasing its lightly spicy perfume.

The purple Santa Rita opuntia seems to think it needs more than 0.2 of an inch to stop looking so thirsty. Hang in there, prickly purple one. Monsoons are on the way. So the meteorologist pros say.

Within a few days of that first storm, all kinds of wildflowers appear in all kinds of surprising and welcome places. Berlanderia lyrata bring their chocolate scent to the wash line, while the little pink tinged white daisies of what is possibly Erigeron divergens (fleabane) provide a starry backdrop. I swear I did not distribute seed for any of these, though the purple Machaeranthera tanacetifolia (Takhoka daisy) has been resident for a few years now, travelling around the garden as if a sentient being with locomotive powers.

After more than seven years this garden can still surprise me with unexpected botanical roommates. Magic happens.

There’s a reason they call it the Land of Enchantment. We do things uuuh differently here.

Recommended Reading:

The dual British Australian yet Thailand residing Colin Cotterill murder mysteries published, starting with The Coroners Lunch, 2004-2020 (there are lots of them, I want to say a million but people tell me to be more accurate with data but why?) set in Lao People’s Democratic Republic (Laos), featuring somewhat reluctant official state coroner Dr Siri Paiboun who is also somewhat reluctantly inhabited by a very ancient shaman and at times various other secondary spirits and demons, plus a whole entourage of wonderfully quirky supporting characters.

Like peeling an onion there are many layers of complex sociopolitical commentary and philosophical musings hidden behind the mask of these ostensibly cozy murder mysteries. Not to mention the books are full of wonderful laugh out loud humor. They are great distraction and joyous, glorious antidote to the times that are too much with (some of) us.

Those who have the most joy win.