Coming Storm

A sunrise with actual cloud definition like the one I saw two days ago is such a rare thing in the summer here in the desert, that I took the camera out again yesterday morning. There was a small chance that I’d see something in the sky that I wanted to photograph. I was in no hurry when I left because the cloud cover was quite thick, though not completely overcast.

Though it was around 5:15 am when I left, the thermometer outside the front door of the house read 72 f, so I didn’t dress in anything warmer than my short sleeve t-shirt and didn’t bother to pull on my gloves before engaging the clutch and pressing the shifter down into first gear. I rode to the nearby 7-11 to fill up my thermos with coffee before heading toward my usual morning vantage point.

After setting up the tripod and camera, I watched the eastern skyline for an hour, but the vapor formations were just thick enough that they didn’t split the light from the rising sun, so no interesting color developed. At least no  dramatic color. The air became increasingly damp as I drank the coffee, another rare thing here. I could feel the coming rainstorm, though it seemed that it would take some hours for it to arrive. Later in the afternoon, the air had become downright swampy. It felt like summer in the northeast. Or Florida on a dry day. I thought about sending an email message to friends questioning my location, but didn’t.

When I rose this morning, I could hear rain smacking into the leaves of the trees and the concrete driveway outside. It came down steadily for over two hours. It will be good for the plants in the flower beds. Perk them up a bit. It will no doubt be the big rain of the entire summer. The “storm” in the title of this post is something of a joke. The weathermen on the local TV channels will have a field day with the story of falling water this morning. They have so little to talk about that it is a relief for them when a few drops of water fall from the clouds. 

I stood on the covered patio watching the water for a few minutes while the cat who apparently thinks he lives here ate the dry food I poured into the bowl. Finished eating, Henry the cat (his reddish hair color reminded me of paintings of Henry Tudor, Henry VIII) didn’t quite seem to know what to do with himself, but didn’t want to go inside the house. He sat on the dry half of the patio, watching droplets merge with a puddle a few feet away.

Being self-centered like everyone else, I speculated about how the rain would affect me. Would it continue through the day and screw up the Cruise Night shoot at Tuxie’s, one of the two “photo opportunities” I have planned for the weekend?