Sitting on my patio, I looked forward to watching the monsoon roll in, but then the weather did what the weather loves to do. It changed. The dark clouds quickly dissipated with the winds, not a drop of rain spilled. The heat climbed to an uncomfortable 100 degrees, as humidity overpowered this usually dry Arizona climate.
One of the rewards of the moment was that the cicadas started chirping, first a few here and there. Then, thousands chimed in and blended together in what always reminds me of the sound a rattlesnake makes when angry or afraid. (When newbie visitors to Arizona ask me, “What’s that sound?” when the cicadas chirp, I love to watch their expression as I say seriously, with a blank face, “It’s rattlesnake season.”)
I stubbornly stayed put in my chair as sweat started rolling down my face. 100 degrees Fahrenheit, feels like 110, I thought, feeling downhearted that my beloved clouds had gone away.
My thoughts turned to my friend, Jerry’s, father Jules, who was a New Jersey salty dog (a sailor, not the cocktail). Jules, a union electrician, could push away inclement weather from his boat with the wave his hand, or beckon clouds to the shore with a simple “come here” gesture. I wished I had met him so that I could have learned how to do that. Whenever I beckoned the clouds, the sky cleared. Were the clouds playing with me?
I wasn’t sure about that, but it did seem as if the weather app on my phone was playing with me. No matter the season, year after year, I stupidly succumbed to looking at my weather app to prepare for the day. And day after day, I was disappointed. “Looks like a great day for a hike!” I’d say joyfully after seeing temps of mid-seventies on my app, only to discover a blast of 85 degree heat, rapidly climbing higher, when I got out of the car at the trailhead. Even in winter, a sunny 54 degree “sweater weather” morning, would instead be bitterly cold, requiring a jacket. Did I read the temperature wrong? Nope. But, below the temperature were the words, “54 degrees, feels like 48.” Is there some guy standing outside the weather station in 54 degrees shivering and yelling, “It feels like 48!”? Ha!
I gathered up my phone, book, and now warm glass of cheap champagne, and headed indoors. I turned my back on the beautiful blue sky that was dotted with gorgeous billowy white clouds, and grumpily said to myself, “Feels like the app is inaccurate.” The chirping of cicadas beckoned to me.
I stopped in my tracks. A revelation crept in. My mood was being controlled by a weather app! I slowly turned around and gazed at the beauty of the day. Cicadas chirped with joy at the humidity that brought them to life. Hummingbirds returned to their feeders, so close to me that I could hear their hum. Leaves rustled in my beautiful trees, and lizards emerged to drink in the moisture from the air. My kitty rubbed against my leg and let out a soft mew.
I returned to the patio, deleted the useless weather app, set my phone face down on the table, took a swig of warm champagne, opened the paperback book that I had been reading, stroked the texture of its pages, took a deep breath of that hot and humid air, and reveled in the beauty and wonder of God’s creation.
Feels like a great day after all.
