When I was younger, we spent our summers out on the Colorado Plateau, in a small town just north of Arizona's White Mountains. To the south, I had a clear view, across the miles of desert, of the mountains, about thirty miles away. Each day, beginning around the first of July, the clouds would start to build in huge mounds over the mountains. As the day wore on, the clouds would climb higher and higher in the sky, and start to move north out over the relatively flat plateau. As the days progressed and the moisture came up from the Gulf of California across Mexico, the clouds would grow larger and eventually, small thunderstorms would break loose and wander northward.
This was the time for us to jump into action. We could see the small thunder storms moving slowly across the plateau and we could tell approximately where the rain was falling. We would jump in the car and drive out towards the rainstorm, until we found a dirt road leading to where the rain was falling. We would race across the desert on the dirt roads, until we found a spot where it was raining. Then we would pile out of the car and dance around in the rain. As soon as the storm moved on, we would start all over again, trying to find the rain.
Years later, when I was living in Panama, I would still go outside to watch the rain, which caused a lot of people to question my sanity. Even today, if I could drive to a rainstorm I would do it, just to see water fall out of the sky. My father told me a story about a farmer in northern Arizona who was packing his car one day. A neighbor stopped and asked if he were going on a trip. The farmer said yep, he was going to take his son back east. The neighbor asked why he was going to do something like that. In reply the farmer said, Well, I saw rain once, but my boy is almost 17 and I thought he ought to see some rain before he goes to college.
This was the time for us to jump into action. We could see the small thunder storms moving slowly across the plateau and we could tell approximately where the rain was falling. We would jump in the car and drive out towards the rainstorm, until we found a dirt road leading to where the rain was falling. We would race across the desert on the dirt roads, until we found a spot where it was raining. Then we would pile out of the car and dance around in the rain. As soon as the storm moved on, we would start all over again, trying to find the rain.
Years later, when I was living in Panama, I would still go outside to watch the rain, which caused a lot of people to question my sanity. Even today, if I could drive to a rainstorm I would do it, just to see water fall out of the sky. My father told me a story about a farmer in northern Arizona who was packing his car one day. A neighbor stopped and asked if he were going on a trip. The farmer said yep, he was going to take his son back east. The neighbor asked why he was going to do something like that. In reply the farmer said, Well, I saw rain once, but my boy is almost 17 and I thought he ought to see some rain before he goes to college.
Even after living in Seattle for 2 years and Gainesville for 2 years, I never grow tired of the rain. That's one thing growing up in the desert will do, teach you an appreciation for rain. :)
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