Big storms yield bugs.

Pretty much all of yesterday was consumed by a grand scale storm.

For those who do not live in Tucson (or the surrounding regions), this storm was called a monsoon. We have a whole "season" where we are supposed to be completely obliterated by them. I mean this in the literal sense. There are high winds and loads of thunder and lightening. There's supposed to be so much rain that our streets, which were built under the suspicion that it's always dry in Tucson, flood over. As far as I've seen, the only benefit to this is that you have to learn creative ways to get around town. But the true beauty of monsoons is not the intriguing tree pruning done by the elements. It is not having to caulk your wagon and float it across rivers that are literally waist high. It's the fact that we're getting water, people. According to various sources that I've found, Tucson's water table has dropped up to 200 feet in certain places over about half as many years. Now, obviously one monsoon isn't going to do much. But a whole season can really make or break us for the year.

The problem with this year is that we've only had a couple of real storms. It's been incredibly dry with record heat waves. For Tucson, that means about 115 degrees. Basically, this summer has sucked.

But back to the story of the storm. Yesterday at about three in the afternoon, I awoke to a cracking sound that must have originated directly above my apartment, and for once I can say that it wasn't coming from my leadfoot upstairs neighbor. I dramatically threw open my shutters to see...nothing clearly. Sheets of rain were pouring down my window, and from what I could make out, my car was being pelted by fat, happy raindrops. I left the shutters open and allowed myself to be lulled into a blissful sleep. When I woke up, it was still drizzling, and when I finally got into my car to leave, it seemed that the rain had finally drawn to an end. It turns out that it had not, as I later heard it drilling down onto the walls of my work. It had, however, stopped when I got out of work and headed home. I rolled down my window to enjoy the humidity and drove off.

What I did not realize was that with large rainstorms in the desert comes gnats. It dawned on me slowly. First I noticed a swarm hovering in an oddly symmetrical, columnar fashion around one street sign. Then I noticed that they seemed to be hovering in the same way around EVERY STREET SIGN THAT I PASSED. As I was finally starting to get nervous about the impending pestilence, I rounded a curve in the road and smacked right in to a wall of the creatures. It was at this point that I rolled up my window, humidity be damned.

There are many reasons why, if anyone ever wants to visit this state, they should NOT visit in the summer. The obvious one would be the heat. The next one is the possiblity of being swept away in a huge storm. But what you should really be afraid of, dear reader, are the gnats the size of hummingbirds. Just remember: you've been warned.




(P.S.- I'd just like to take the opportunity to say that the above photograph was taken by yours truly...)