Crazy for the Storm

It's been a couple weeks since I posted a blog entry - got a few in the queue, waiting to be typed - but writing was put on hold while I had my eyes fixed and then lost myself in Chelsea Cain's Archie and Gretchen books. Talk about a reading hangover. Read three of the books in Chelsea's series and had to force myself to stop; there are only two left. I'm going to need to stretch them out and maybe reread these because I read them so fast and so late at night that my recollection of details is kind of flimsy.

It rained here in Kino. That's the big news. I posted these pics and observations on facebook. This is for my blog friends.

It rained here. In the five years that I've lived in Kino, up until this summer it had only rained twice. One time a real gully-washer in early February just after I'd returned from the Alamos music festival. The other last Thanksgiving. Outside of those storms we'd watch the clouds chug up from Calle Doce only to stall at the invisible shield formed by the Sea of Cortez and the bay of Kino. Some drops would escape. We'd laugh and say "It rained. Twelve drops." We could count them, they were so few and far between.

A friend who grew up here said when he was a kid they would have rain days. When it rained, they got to stay home from school. In those days there were no paved streets. I could see how it would be impossible to get from one place to another, traversing flooded streets, sneakers stuck in muck. Kids probably had to help mom swab out the flooded mess of their homes.

This year the monsoons have been strong enough to break through that shield. Most of them have hit in the middle of the night. A roll of thunder would wake me. Then kaboom! Lightning would strike, thunder would roar and - excuse me for this - all hell would break loose! The storm that hit yesterday struck mid morning. The sea was flat, the skies blue. I wondered if my friend was out on her stand-up paddle board. The man who owns the hotel who planted trees along my wall was out in the water for his daily swim. He's a big man with bowed legs. He's been swimming for exercise and making great progress. I sat at the computer doing a typing job - a police internal affairs investigation which is one of my favorites. I took a break and looked out at the sea. It had turned green. I ran for my camera.

The hotel owner was out in the water. Way out there. He swims attached to a float. I watched his round head and the round float bounce in the waves as he tried to make his way back to shore. The waves were carrying him to New Kino. I watched and waited. Would I have to call the police? I couldn't do that. The electricity went out and my cell phone was out of minutes (or at least I think that's what the nice lady was saying in Spanish when I tried to dial out). The wind kicked up. I had to turn my back against the wall of sand. Finally the hotel man made it to shore. He walked over to me as I said things like "Oh my God, are you okay? That was dangerous. You could've ended up in New Kino!" all in some fractured spanglish. He knew what I was saying and thanked me profusely for worrying about him. I figured it's good to be on his good side. That way he won't suspect me when his trees disappear.

The electricity was still out so I decided to walk over to my trailer. This is Guaymas Street...now Rio Guaymas.

The trailer park was a flooded muddy mess. It looked like it did after the sea surge from Hurricane Henriette in 2007 (I think).

All day the electricity came and went. I was bored. I wanted to read another Chelsea Cain but I held back, pulling out some murder mystery I'd bought up in Tucson last week. I did some sudoku. The doors were open. It wasn't suppressingly muggy.

That night the sun outlined the clouds, the sea flattened and the dragonflies arrived.

Sounds Like Rain

Apparently that last post, the Buddy Guy post, was some sort of rain dance because it rained here in the land of "it almost never rains here."

Somewhere around midnight I woke to turn off the AC because the trailer was freezing-ass cold. I turned on the floor fan, keeping the windows closed because I knew it was still hot and humid outdoors. I crawled back into bed and heard the pat pat pat of raindrops on the trailer roof. You know how sometimes you'll wake in the morning and go outside and the patio is wet and you'll think hm, it must've rained last night? Well living in an aluminum house there's never any guessing about did it or didn't it rain. Even one drop of rain causes a reverberating ping on the roof of the trailer.

I laid in bed expecting the rain to end but it didn't. I fell asleep but woke a little later just to check. It was still raining! It rained all night. Not Arizona raging monsoon nor Portland steady downpour, just a sweet two-step on the trailer roof.

It rained enough that there's a puddle on my trailer floor from where the roof leaks around the Fantastic vent. Small price to pay for a cloudy Oregon day on the Sea of Cortez.

Feels Like Rain

After 25 years in Oregon I never thought I'd wish for a cloudy, rainy day. This morning I woke with such a craving. But it ain't gonna happen. Just this relentless heat and humidity, I stay snuggled under the comforter with the AC on high.

It rains in southern Arizona, in the Sonoran Desert. It rains (sometimes) in the winter. It rains a lot (usually) in the summer during monsoon season. But here in Kino, in the Sonoran Desert along the Sea of Cortez, it almost never rains. The clouds will start to form over Calle Doce way. They'll gather in a half-circle along Kino's backside like foamy shaving cream. But that sea air keeps those clouds at bay. Twelve rain drops fall - so few we can count them - and that's it, that's all we get.

Some of the best sexy sweaty rainy lyrics are these:

Down here the river meets the sea
and in the sticky heat I feel you open up to me
Love comes out of nowhere, baby, just like a hurricane
And it feels like rain

Written by John Hiatt, I've owned three versions of this song: his, Aaron Neville's and Buddy Guy's. I recommend all three. Here's Buddy Guy.