Summer Thunderstorms

Summer is the reality check for living in the desert, where it’s not uncommon to reach 100-plus temperatures on a daily basis. On a nightly basis, too. If there’s a breeze the effect feels much like that of a convection oven, and we all get a teensy bit roasted. Hydration is the key to survival, but more on that later.

Sometimes I will hear an approaching storm before taking notice of the clouds. The deep rumble of thunder is one of the most beautiful sounds heard on a convection-oven afternoon. I can hear the leaves rustling in a tidal wave before the wind blasts in to our mountain valley. A friend clocked winds at 83 miles per hour during a recent storm, well above hurricane force. But that’s another story, too. This desert is chockfull of stories.

Behind the wind wave, you can see the rain coming closer. When the first quarter-size drops hit, the outside cats beat a retreat to their shelter, and the inside cats run to their window perch to watch until they get bored. There’s a tin roof on our sleeping porch and sometimes the sound of rain beating down drowns out the thunder. It’s that loud.


I go into “safety mode,” and make the rounds unplugging everything except the refrigerator. If there’s enough light, I can do inside chores, but if it’s dark it’s a great time to crawl into bed with a flashlight and a good book. Unless I’m hypnotized by the frequent lightning formations.

As soon as the storm passes I’ll walk southeast toward the Chisos Mountains, enjoying the wet creosote smell. I love the smell of rain, but the smell of a freshly wet creosote bush is even better. It’s a clean, crisp smell—no dust, no heat. The outside cats sometimes come with me on my walk. Usually I don’t get far because every gully and ravine is awash with runoff, exposing rocks and creating new tiny rivers of latte-colored water. The desert plants, especially resurrection plants, come alive. Everything that grows here squeezes every bit of usefulness from the moisture.

In the next day or two, the long arms of ocotillos, forever pointing skyward, will leaf out and create a massive fuzzy sea of green all through the valley. Nothing is as alive as this desert. And nothing is quite as beautiful as a summer thunderstorm.