A Fall in the Desert

In a Texas guidebook, I read a litany which some residents cite to describe the weather in that behemoth state. Each season included the word 'hot,' with a few qualifying words such as 'a little less...' or 'soon to be....' I completely understand the sameness of sunshine. No doubt my town gets more sunny days than any part of Texas.

It is, therefore, with great joy that I welcome a season which is generally a little less hot. The ubiquitious sun remains fixed on our locale but there are intermittent cloudy moments. Why, it even rained the last two days. Almost nowhere else in this country is rain worth mentioning. There are even places where inexorable rain is endured with disdain.

My office window faces a formidable mountain. During much of the year, its surface nearly disappears from view because of the dusky shades of its crevices. It appears as if the rocks are unfinished, awaiting the addition of vibrant color. If there is an unusually wet winter, greenery will often speckle the lower portion of the peaks.



Clouds give the mountain character. They herald weather. Not just sunshine, heat and repeat.



Sunsets crest the jagged edges closest to the sky with brilliant shades that range from umber to scarlet.



The mountain changes as residents below begin to put away tank tops and shorts and embrace light cotton sweaters and jeans.



Finally, a fall in the desert.