Monsoon in Arizona is late this year, but maybe it's finally starting. According to the weather app, it's supposed to rain every afternoon this week. That means the heat during the day creates massive thunderclouds that can produce wind, lightning, and torrential rain. It's pretty exciting if you have a nice covered porch from which to view the storms. I'm not afraid of getting hit by lightning or washed away in a flood, but I am afraid of getting stuck in slick red mud.
There's no wind. The forest is still except for the occasional crack of a gunshot. The sky is mostly clouds. The lighting looks eerie, almost misty. Maybe that's because I don't wear glasses while I'm typing, so when I look out my side door, everything is soft and hazy. It's a bit muggy, but nothing like what my sister in Boston has experienced this summer. I'm not going to mention the sweat drenching my waistband of my pajama pants.
I stayed the past three nights in another Flagstaff location next to Lake Marshall, which is currently dry except for a small scummy pond inhabited by nesting ducks. When I saw the forecast for rain, I decided I'd better move camp. The road to the campsite area has been ravaged by previous rains and monster truck tires, leaving deep wallows in the dirt that remind me of the wavy roller skating rink at Oak's Park. That's in Portland, in case you are wondering.
I won't say I'm getting the hang of this camping thing, but I will say that I prefer camping in the forest to camping in the city. Knowing that I'm breaking the law by sleeping in my car overnight on public streets makes me uncomfortable. Knowing that I'm not welcome in any city that prohibits overnight sleeping in one's car on public property is disheartening. It's safer in the forest. The only downside, besides the gunshots and the grizzled weirdos, is the 14-day camping limit rule. After 14 days out of a 30-day period, you have to move to another camp at least 25 miles away. In other words, you can't stake out a homestead and build your own tiny fort in the forest.
With no solar today, after checking to be sure my shirt was not on backwards and that I was wearing pants, I took my fast-charging power box to the mall, where it charges up in about an hour. I found a small round table with a functional outlet on top. I plugged it in. It started slurping up power at a rate that far outstrips solar. While I waited, I did some work done on my dinky tablet with my giant Bluetooth keyboard and watched the mall-goers navigate the stores and kiosks.
When I'm camping, I meet a lot of dogs. Two days ago, I met Bo and Little Man. I never asked the name of their dog walker. The dogs were chunky and energetic. The slender woman walking them took them out one at a time. I suspected those muscular dogs together could drag her into the next county. They were well-behaved dogs, though. She let them visit me one at a time when they seemed inclined to sniff me out. Then they peed all over the rocks in my campsite.
"I can't stop them from doing that," the woman said, as if I was going to start yelling.
"No worries," I replied. I didn't say I was actually more impressed by the fact that she wore the same loose white shirt and baggy green shorts every day I saw her. That made me feel better about my own overworked wardrobe.
Recently I was on the phone when a little white poodle-type mutt jumped into my van through my side door. It jumped around like it was on pogo sticks, sniffing and wriggling and generally wreaking havoc. I finally shooed it outside. I presume it found its way home. I never saw the owner.
I haven't seen any lightning today, but the thunder is now rolling overhead. It just started pouring rain, just for a brief minute, followed by sprinkles, then a deluge, then a light shower. Typical monsoon behavior. Difficult to predict with accuracy, even with a full contingent of weather forecasters. I check the weather app multiple times a day. This morning it said rain was coming tomorrow. Ha.
I don't mind the rain. I'd rather be out here among the trees than parked at Cracker Barrel for fear of mud.
Oh, by the way, not that you were wondering, but I'm off the Keppra and trying something else. Once again I'm a guinea pig, but more to the point, going off the Keppra means no more Keppra rage. Now I have no excuse if I have a conniption fit over spilling my coffee or running out of crackers. I'm back to plain old ordinary rage, if I choose to indulge. I don't often indulge in anger these days. I don't have the energy. It changes nothing, and it hurts no one but me. But it was nice to have the option and have something external to blame.
The rain has stopped. The sun is trying to make an appearance. Soon, the dirt road will be powder again. Welcome to monsoon in Northern Arizona.
