Some people are obsessed with weather. Thunderstorms, tornadoes, sleet and hail. A simple snowstorm becomes a nor’easter. Millions without power. At least that’s how reporters ramp up the story. But living in Phoenix, we don’t have much weather. It’s generally sunny and pleasant most of the year—until it isn’t. Then it’s still sunny and hot. Did I say hot? I mean really hot.
That’s a lot of zeros
When we first moved to Phoenix, the summer seemed unendurable. That’s because the triple digit temperatures started around May 7th and lasted until October 7th. I know this because I was desperate for a time limit on the experience. As the snowbirds flew north, we remained. Air conditioner jacked up. Ice water nearby. Pool in constant use.
And oddly enough, it’s during a Phoenix summer when you see Phoenicians in sweaters. That’s because the restaurants and movie theaters are kept at the temperature of a meat locker. We’re all wearing light weight clothing to stave off the heat. At the supermarket, you have to run past the dairy aisle. The meat counter isn’t much better. And pity the poor soul who gets stuck in frozen foods. You can literally build an igloo in that aisle.
And then, we have the monsoon season. It kicks in around June 15th and runs through September 30th—with most of the activity in July and August. The monsoons arrive courtesy of the Gulf of Mexico, bringing rain and dust storms called haboobs. Haboobs present the most dramatic weather of the season. Huge clouds of dust are swept up from the Arizona desert and engulf the area. News stations catch the beginnings of these haboobs as they start to roll. As you wait for them to arrive, the air is still. Then the skies darken and a massive gust of wind kicks up. You’re overtaken by sand as the visibility drops to zero.
This will be our 8th year in the desert. Each year we talk about leaving for the summer. Many people do. But we’ve become hardy desert rats. We stay. And each summer, usually around July 30th, we look at each other and desperately plot an escape before we slowly slip back into the pool. Ah the summer in Phoenix. You’ve got to love it.