Oh, my. How is it possible for the sky to be so magnificent? For the air to be so charged? For beauty to be so beautiful?
Yep. this is one of those incredible, awe-inspiring, can’t-possibly-be-real monsoon afternoons.
A great wind blows through, laughing and celebrating. Vast, miles-high piles of white and pearl-gray clouds loom upward, ever upward, then scud ahead of the fierce winds. The palm trees bend before the wind. The ringy-dingies clang and chatter with each gust that blasts under the eaves.
Ruby loafs on the bed in front of the open drapes, not impressed. The human dares not scarf down another glass of wine, lest she and the dawg need to flee.
What an afternoon!
And yes, it is magnificence. That’s really the only word you can assign to an Arizona monsoon: magnificence.
Why on earth would anyone else want to live anywhere else…on earth?