The Burrow

One month from today my daughter and future son-in-law and his parents will be in my house.  One month from Saturday, there will be a wedding at my house.  These facts are incontrovertible.  They make me happy.  They are the reason for the rest of my angst. The kids are getting married and we could not be happier and if I could invent a Make It Not Rain machine I'd be out in the garage attending to the task right now.  I can get the tableware and the flowers and my necklace and have a good time through it all.  I cannot control the skies. If the National Weather Service had not decided to tamper with things, I might be less concerned. Let me insert something I wrote on June 18, The National Weather Service has decided to take charge of our monsoon season. Up until 2008, the monsoon season began after 3 consecutive days with the dew point over 54 . In 2008, the National Weather Service decided that that was too much to deal with, and they set June 1...

Monsoon is crashing over our heads.  Were I motivated to sit under the portico with a tripod and a remote switch I might have captured the lightning strike that bisected this scene moments before I took this picture. It's noisy and blustery and altogether wonderful. Though we might be a little crowded, scrunched inside if it happens during the wedding, the enormity and the beauty of it all will provide a wonderful distraction to any discomforts. And anyhow, I'm not allowing it to rain that evening. I've already sent the memo. ***** Remember that closet I had professionally organized?   Thirteen months ago I wrote this: Boxes of photographs and scrapbooking materials sit on the floor, taunting me but out of the way. Yesterday, I tackled those boxes. MOTG needed some photos of our bride-to-be, and they were all there, in labeled envelopes, for the most part, nestled amongst the negatives and the rolls of Kodachrome and the instant camera and...

There are clouds in the sky over Marana, storm clouds hovering over Safford Peak.... on one side anyway, as you can see. My little piece of the desert is sunny. Blue skies. A slight breeze. And very thirsty plant material gasping for nourishment. I'm doing the best I can with soaker hoses and long deep waterings in the mulch covered wells surrounding the newest acquisitions, but I just can't keep up. The poor crepe myrtle volunteer, usually so perky in the middle of the lantana, is a wilted, wasted remnant of its former vibrant self: I have my portable rain-harvesting system all ready to go. All I need is the rain. ********** The house next door has been all-but-empty for a year, waiting patiently for someone to buy it. So, when I drove by and saw the garage door standing open, and a young man carrying boxes out and into his truck, I called the Sheriff. I was just being a cautious neighbor. The dispatcher was friendly and reassured me that my call was totally appropriate. The o...

There's a bunny in my courtyard. He's nibbling the leaves of the moorea lily. He's kind of scruffy looking; his ears have notches in them. Has someone been nibbling on them? The monsoon has arrived. We don't say "monsoon season" because it's redundant - the monsoon is the season in which most of our rain falls. The monsoon start date is determined when the average daily dewpoint is 54 degrees or greater, according to NOAA. That is, it was up until 2008 when The National Weather Service decided that it would start, every year, despite the weather or the rainfall or the dewpoint, on June 15th. These people must be related to the fools who decided that George Washington and Abraham Lincoln were both born on the 3rd Monday in February, thus depriving generations of school children the pleasure of having two 4-day weeks happening two weeks apart. A bobcat just strolled by. Happily, he was outside the gate to the courtyard. Anyhow, back to the monsoon. ...