Just a short note to Caroline and me that during the late day on the last walk around the block, we stepped out and heard the first cicadas of the year. Half a block from there, we heard crickets for the first time in half a year. While the mercury rising over 100 degrees is a great signifier that summer has arrived in the desert, it is the sound of these insects that signals that the year’s hottest days are on their way. Soon, we’ll see billowing clouds on the horizon, meaning the monsoons are around the corner. There’s a particular kind of romantic notion as the blistering heat of the day and metallic orchestra of insects blend with the approaching winds and the distant roar of rolling thunder that is usually carrying the scent of wet earth and creosote our way. This is not the calm of winter, the golden palette of fall, or the vibrant greenery of spring, nor is it the calm recreational days of summer joining friends at the pool or BBQ. The monsoon is the violence of dust storms; it is the chance for deadly flash floods to sweep the inattentive away, electricity outages can arrive at the most inopportune times, and howling winds that fell trees and send palm fronds jettisoning across streets. Our summer deluges are aggressive reminders that we live in an inhospitable environment where those who are hardy enough will step out into the maelstrom to celebrate the return of the ferocity called monsoon.

The excitement returns with those clicking tymbals of the buzzing cicadas, putting smiles on our faces. Soon, the first raindrops of the summer storms will arrive, and we’ll be standing outside to meet them with our faces. With the temperature up near 110, the humidity will rise quickly to nearly 100%, and if we are lucky, the wind whipping through the falling water will dramatically cool the air until the rain passes and steam starts to rise off the searing hot streets. Those who claim to hate Arizona’s brutal summers have never learned what makes them so special. Then in just about 90 days, summer will be over once again, and those who survived it can count themselves among the fortunate that they were still alive for yet another opportunity to experience the extraordinary.