Monday was one of those days that felt stirred up from the moment I arrived at school. There was a bit more crying at drop-off, energy on the playground felt frenzied, and the day had the feeling that something was in the air. Our mostly smooth and settled new school year seemed less settled.
As the day progressed, I noticed overcast skies, which was a welcome sight, given that it meant the temperature would be dropping. We went on with the day, completed our first professional development meeting of the year, and at 5:20 I prepared to leave for the day. When I approached my car and gazed at the sky, I realized we were about to experience a significant weather event. I made it to the corner of Baseline and 40th Street before I had to pull over to photograph the pending storm. I knew exactly what it was, and it took me back to my 60th birthday.
The day I turned 6o in 2011, we’d just finished eating dinner in the vicinity of Camelback and 24th Street. We looked out toward the east and saw a cloud that looked like it could be a set for a King Kong movie. It was a dark and luminous cloud. Soon we were in our car heading south toward home. Suddenly a huge wall of dust completely overtook us, limiting all visibility. We had to pull over to wait out the storm. After it was over and we were safely home, the weather reporters were calling it a haboob. It was quite an event to usher in my 7th decade.
Until Monday, I hadn’t seen another storm quite like it. Nevertheless, once I saw the sky, I knew what what it was and what we were in for. By the time I got home, just a few miles west of the Seed, South Mountain was barely visible. I kept an eye on the storm’s progress from the safety of my home, and once the dust passed I was glad for the rain that followed. We didn’t need the dust, but the rain was a welcome visitor to our parched desert land.
The next morning we had to pick up a slew of dead branches from our playground. Some were small, others needed two people to drag over to the pile by the back gate. A few more required heavier equipment to saw off and remove from our property. All in all, we were fortunate that the damage was minimal. As I think of friends in India who recently lost homes, fields, and orchards, and families in Texas who lost their precious children to a summer storm, I know we were lucky to just lose a few branches. It’s all about perspective, as we navigate our way through these stormy days.