Too much water in the desert

While away on our big west coast trip, our friends had alerted us to the fact that we had large limbs down in both the front and back yards in Tucson.

What we didn’t know was the condition of the inside of the house.

When we finally got home, we stepped inside, and immediately it didn’t smell right. It smelled like…muck. It was an old smell, triggering sad, old memories.

It smelled like sagging, rambling old houses bisected into dark, damp mini-apartments in the dumpy sections of small college towns in the damp woods of the Pacific northwest. I pictured shingled shacks sliding off their foundations in the narrow valleys under towering evergreens; rotted wood structures scattered amongst the mushrooms, ferns, moss and mud, mud, mud, everywhere mud.

It smelled like pot. Or mildew. I can’t tell the difference between the smell of pot and mildew in people’s houses and cars and lingering on their clothes. I get those damp earthy smells all confused – either way, it smelled like poverty to me. It smelled like the life I had left behind when I left the Pacific Northwest for California in 2001 and vowed never to come back. I was instantly depressed.

We rushed from room to room, looking for the damage. There was an inch of water in one corner of the living room; water stains creeping up the side of an end table. Water was dripping down from the intake grate for the central heating & air conditioning system.

In the hall bathroom, the ceiling next to the skylight hung low, with a gallon of water held aloft by nothing except a stretched and sagging recent layer of new paint. The water had seeped through the drywall and ponded above the paint layer, the surprisingly flexible paint layer stretched out and hanging down with the weight.

John cut the paint away to release the water and start the drying process.

It would have been great to hire a roofer to fix the roof, but as those of you who live in areas with only occasional rain know, it’s not possible to get a roofer immediately following a major rain event.

We had only one week in Tucson before heading to Albuquerque for a couple of weeks. So any roof fixing that was going to happen was going to have to be done by us. More specifically, by John. I have once or twice pushed standing water off a flat roof when I’ve really needed to. But John is the fix-it guy. So up he went.

First, he cleaned all the matted gunk off the roof. Our enormous mesquite tree makes an incomprehensible amount of leaf litter. I’ve lived in many different parts of the country and I’ve dealt with maple trees and other huge big-leaf trees, and I’m convinced that this stupid desert mesquite is the messiest tree I have ever had to deal with. Ever! We had mats of brown, fused gunk up there that John had to clear. Then he had to find the leak points, which amazingly he thinks he found. He sealed up what he could find, but we don’t know, is the roof fixed? We hope so!

The flood waters had receded by the time we got home, but apparently the arroyos, which are usually dry, sandy washes, had flooded their banks.

Here you can see the mud across the bike trails.

Luckily our house is uphill from the arroyo and didn’t flood. It was just a muddy mess from all the rain. Look at my poor pool! It’s not looking very inviting.

And suddenly we have lawn.

And my cozy, welcoming back patio is not cozy or welcoming!

Yuck!

Ok, here’s the question for the month. Why doesn’t Albuquerque have mosquitoes during monsoon season? Tucson does! OMG and do they ever! Tons of little, sneaky, almost-silent mosquitoes that zip in and back out so fast you hardly know what got you.

I understand why there’s mosquitoes in monsoon season. Tons of rain, standing water everywhere. You have water, you get mosquitos. Except why not Albuquerque? Albuquerque has monsoons too – but without the resulting mosquitoes. Essentially it’s the same climate.

A couple of my friends have suggested it’s the elevation difference, because Albuquerque is significantly higher (I’ve been whining non-stop to all my friends about the mosquitos, which is why I’m hearing these theories). But I know it’s not elevation because I’ve spent my whole life hiking and backpacking in the mountains in the summer and where there’s water, there’s mosquitoes – in any elevation!

My theory is – it’s about the amount of water. Both places get monsoons, but Tucson tends to get a bit more water during the rainy season. Albuquerque’s afternoon thunder and lightning storms are often nearly completely dry.

Plus, apparently July was Tucson’s wettest month EVER recorded. Here’s a quote from the local weather report, “Not only did July break records for being the wettest month ever recorded, but it also helped produce the best start to a monsoon on record. From June 15th to July 31st, a total of 8.23” of rain fell at Tucson International Airport. That total produced the wettest start to a monsoon to ever be recorded in Tucson”

I guess it’s been wet.

Notice the weather report said, “best” rather than “worst” or “wettest”. A lot of my desert friends go gaga over the rain. They miss it. I get that. And we need the water, of course. But don’t ask me to like rain. I don’t like rain. Ever. Even after 15 years in the desert. Yes, I know rain is important. So are taxes.

I believe in taxes. I believe in rain. But I don’t enjoy rainy season any more than most people enjoy tax season. So please don’t ask me to pretend to like rain, just because it’s important. I don’t ask you to pretend to like tax season. 😉

You know what I loved? June. June was amazing. Triple digits every day, without fail, and only going down to about 80 at night. It was so freaking hot, it was insane. Walking outside was just like, whoa…wow. That’s nuts. Unreal. It was awesome. AWESOME!

I guess I need to buy one of those little dry saunas for winter. I’ve generally always had a hot tub (absolutely necessary imho), but I’ve never had a sauna. Apparently I need one! Even in Tucson!

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