Monsoon

Thursday night, we were hit by an amazing monsoon which knocked out our power until 5 am, splintered trees and uprooted an ancient pine tree which sent it blocking three lanes of traffic.

Arizona is lucky to have its monsoons. Tornadoes are insane vandals, burning a circuitous path of chaos, death, and destruction. Earthquakes are irritated shakes which unblinkingly flatten communities as a soccer ball will roll over a blade of grass. Tidal waves bring a slow horror and destruction, and linger over the land like a plague. Hurricanes last for days and wipe out cities like an alien warship. An Arizona monsoon is almost like a poem. Yes, they cause millions of dollars of destruction, but not on the same kind of scale of hurricane or other natural disasters.

You can watch it creep towards the city, massive, crackling with incessant lighting, even as the sun shines where you stand. The wind cools, becomes moist and you can smell the rain in the distance. Clouds build. The pyrotechnics start, lighting snaking across the sky and lighting up the blue gray clouds. There is no miserable pissant drizzling, or mists, or sprinkles here. The first drops that hit are massive, smacking into windshields and sidewalks. Then the downpour begins as though someone had upended a bucket of water. The wind picks up further, turning the torrential deluge sideways, thrashing the trees and slashing at the ground. Anyone outside becomes drenched within seconds. The wind and rain and lighting increases steadily, and holds. Rain beats on the windows, the wind pounds on the door, and your garbage cans go for a run. You find them later a few streets down. The trees and bushes thrash and writhe and finally the rain lets up. Ten minutes later. There is only a bit of lightning in the distance.