The rain this summer has been a welcome relief to the intense heat waves in between the monsoon storm surges. Every bare section of ground sprouted green and now yellow with prairie sunflowers, rabbit brush, and arrow-leaf balsam root. Peeks of sunlight through the dark clouds turn the normally dry desert vistas into slivers of gold.
I have been rushing toward low-lying landscapes like the rest of the fallen drops with my camera and mud-caked sandals to sniff the earthy essence of flash floods. The smell is unique, like a wet sandstorm.
The dance of light and storm clouds with the La Sal mountains has me popping in and out of the house with each clap of thunder and furl of fog. The inability to distinguish earth from sky is an uncommon occurrence in these parts. Feels more like the sea shore than the desert Southwest.
A drive down the roads winding along on either side of the Colorado River after heavy rains yields spectacular views of waterfalls cascading from the rims. Pools and standing water rarely last long in the desert where most surfaces are hard and slick or soft and porous. Travel off pavement in any direction is tricky unless you're prepared for axle-deep clay or a flood float. A few years back, a family of tourists rode their Hummer four miles down a back-country wash in a 2,000 feet per second surge of water and debris.
Sometimes beauty can be dangerous.
Spectacular and scary at the same time; as always, your stories are gripping!
Good writing... What happened to those tourists in the Hummer?
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