Saturday it rained—hard, grey sheety rain, coming down on a southeast wind-driven diagonal. Saturday’s rainfall was 0.75 inches, a record for January 26. It rains again this morning, big drops falling from a black smear of cloud. Blustery winds sigh through overhead electrical wires and whistle under doors.
In Port Orford, this rainfall would be considered puny; in fact, probably no one would even comment on it. It’s an every day occurrence in January, where averages flag in at 15 inches or so. But here, south of Tucson, where the monthly average is less than an inch, it is delightfully unexpected.
Here in the Sonoran desert, rains generally come as torrents. It pours off flat roofs and out canales (wooden or clay conduits), and after only a few minutes puddles on pavement and sidewalks. Arroyos fill quickly with braided bands, and if it’s summer, can flood banks and otherwise dusty road crossings.
Almost immediately after, the sun returns and surfaces steam in the brightness, drying within the hour. Creosote and palo verde gleam with water and fill the desert air with their unique odor. Wet dirt turns dry.
To desert dwellers, Gary Nabhan’s book title “The Desert Smells Like Rain” could not be more evocative or more accurate. Often the scent comes first, telling of rainfall in the distance, possibly heading our way.
For residents of this parched land as well as returning desert lovers like us, that aroma could not be more welcoming.
DESERT RAIN & CLOUDS
© SR Euston
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