Each night, I hope for a monsoon breeze by bedtime. That is the most I can hope for – a slight breeze that will seep in through my tiny RV windows and clear out the overheated plastic smell that builds inside all day.

Last night a breeze blew in along with some real rain clouds. They formed early, even before Jeopardy stated at 6 PM. I stepped outside to survey the sky. The clouds were a smokey gray and seemed heavy with rain. The air, too, seemed to carry moisture. Then, the wind started and the air temperatures dropped from the high of 96 degrees. A gray dust blew up from the ground and the trees began to arch against the wind. Tango and I walked for 10 minutes, and I chanted silently, “C-‘mon rain! You can do it.”

It is raining somewhere!

Rain did not fall, despite the growing humidity. Both Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune ended and, with nothing else to watch on broadcast channels a Wednesday night, I dug out my Kindle and climbed onto my bed. Then, the wind started again, this time with more force. I slipped outside once more and noticed a friend standing there watching the night sky.

The sky held more promise this time with bigger and darker clouds. To the south, over the Mexico border, I could see the gray streaks of rain falling. Lightning flashed and then thunder eventually rumbled someplace far away. My friend said “Two seconds for every mile between the lightning and thunder”. He corrected himself, “Two miles for every second in between.” I confused the conversation even more by suggesting, “One second per mile”. Later, when I looked it up, I learned that we were both wrong. Live Science told me the following:

“Just count the number of seconds that pass between a flash of lightning and the crack of thunder that follows it, then divide that number by five. … Five seconds, for example, indicates the lightning struck 1 mile away, and a 10-second gap means the lightning was 2 miles away”

So maybe the rain was 10 miles away. It doesn’t matter, because it took its sweet time moving towards our patch of desert. When rain finally fell, it was only a few fat drops falling irregularly on my metal roof. Hours of build up and desert sky drama without much output. Certainly not the kind of rain that would end a severe drought.

The forecast shows more rain over the next few days. Yet, this is a drought-parched land and feeling hopeful seems futile at this point.

Rain Dance