Yesterday I saw the icy cirrus clouds come in streaks from the North.
And with them came cold weather and winds.
The winds stripped the small yellow flowers from the Palo Verde trees.
The small yellow flowers formed a blanket over the ground, and floated on top of the pool.
We humans protected the pool's water, not that it cared, by covering it with a plastic tarp, and clamping the north side against the winds.
Next the wind brought the red dust from the Catalina mountains to the North.
The red dust bit grittily into our eyes, and ground between our teeth, all while leaving a red film on the plastic pool cover.
When the night came, under the day-after-full moon, the desert cooled, and the winds subsided.
And in the cool weather of the night, large cumulous clouds, not even seperate, as a white/gray blanket in the sky, crept over the mountains.
When the sun rose this morning, it was darker outside than is customary for sunrise, and I slept longer for it.
Realizing the clouds were truly a presence I went out when I woke, to the first drops of rain I've ever seen outside of the mountains in Arizona.
From a back porch of a house in the center of Tucson, I saw the showers sparsly, then thickly, then splashingly join into the puddles of thier predecessors.
And watching the yard flood quickly, I saw bits of hail jump up from the puddles, revealing that each drop must have a core of ice.
And soon this was very obvious, as the wetness and streaks of rain yielded to a thick flurry of small white hailstones.
Small hailstones, that, for a moment, left a white streaking across the high ground, where the puddles and thirsting rivulets did not consume them.
Though these white streaks were quickly erased, as the downfall became rain once again, continuing to mat down and make sticky streams throughout, the dust which covered omnipresently.
Intermittently, precipitation has continued today, though cloudbreaks have taken precedence as the norm.
And through a cloudbreak at this very moment, the sun is shining from the west.
And to the east, over the city, there are two rainbows arched, one over the other.
The bottom of these two rainbows bright even to a melding of the colors, shining, it seems, with its own light where ROY G BIV joins the horizon.
The top, faded to naught more than an arched light in the sky, pulling vibrancy from the drab grey of the eastern clouds.
And my uncle assures me that I will sunburn again, come the end of this next week.