Waiting out the storm: rain and COVID-19

I originally thought that waiting out the storm meant four days of rain in the desert.  Yet over those days, and more, as I followed reports on social media—some more reliable than others—realized people around the world are waiting out the storm of the rapidly spreading COVID-19.

So thankful I have no place to be in a hurry.

By now we should have all gotten the message and know what to do to reduce chances of getting this latest virus.  Actually, things we learned in kindergarten, wash hands, cover mouth when coughing, blow nose, and stay home when sick.  Nobody wants a hug if you’re sick except your Mom, and right now even that’s a bad idea.

Go outside to non-congested areas.  Give people space.  Quarantine doesn’t have to lock you into the house.  Yet if it does, make the most of that time doing something positive.  This is not forever.

I think their will be a lot of December babies this year.  I hope their parents teach them well.

I will continue waiting out the storm boondocking in the southern Arizona desert in as much social isolation as possible.

In the meantime, I will try to keep bringing you stories and photos from the Sonoran Desert while waiting out the storm.

Seeing predictions for four days of rain sent me back to boondock on BLM Darby Well Road just south of Ajo. I found a high place with firm ground speckled with tiny, white, daisy-like Desert Star flowers and a familiar view of Black Mountain.  My window view also included a leaning Saguaro and two other RVs at a relatively respectful distance, and they both left within two days.

The little rain that fell overnight didn’t even dampen the ground.  Clouds danced around all morning creating patches of light and shadow.  A military jet scared me by breaking the silence of the desert.

By mid-afternoon I smelled the rain and felt the temperature drop as the sky turned a steely gray.

Rain in the desert seems like a special gift to this otherwise arid environment.

A gentle rain became more steady and I heard thunder and saw lightning.  I enjoy listening to rain on the roof.  Sierra, it seems, not so much.  She becomes more needy and lies closer for comfort and consoling.

And so we greeted yet another drizzly desert day with gentle rain intermittently all day.  The desert is happy, I can feel the plants growing.

By noon it was warm enough to open doors and windows.  Petrichor!  I’ve heard people talk about the creosote smell after rain.  I smell cinnamon.  Yet the ground was soft enough I barely wanted to walk on it let alone drive.  Glad I didn’t have to go anywhere.

Two more jets flew low and banked around Black Mountain interrupting the more pleasant song of the Cactus Wren.  A Gila Woodpecker landed on the step and pecked loudly catching both of us off guard.  A hummingbird came by. They seem to like the red light covers.

Another day of gray sky has me wondering if I’m getting enough charge from the solar panel to light the fridge.

Then later in the day, clouds move around enough to let the sunshine through with just enough rain for a wide-bowed rainbow to the east.  What you don’t see is the RV at each end.

And the camper made a good cover for me and the camera.

Rain really is a special gift in the desert.

Water drops don’t hang very long.

The air almost sparkles with fresh scents.

Figured I had one day left to lay low and let the ground dry a bit before I’d have to head to town for propane and dump holding tanks.  And even then there were puddles.

When I got to Belly Acres RV Park I asked if they had spaces and they did.  Guess I shouldn’t be too surprised as many RVers have headed home in a hurry because of CORVID-19.   I paid for a space then dumped, filled water, took a shower, and charged everything I could because I had electricity.  But hey, civilization is so noisy I could barely hear the birds.  Several neighbors gathered on the nearby Community building porch.  Voices rose and fell.  And although I couldn’t hear words it felt like some subtle disagreement was going on.  And then there was singing.  Maybe I should have just joined in but I am social distancing and already felt like I’d been too peopley.

In the morning I was more than ready to return to the peace and quiet of the desert, deserquies.  I went to the grocery store in Ajo, not really needing much, and the shelves were as stocked as ever, they even had toilet paper though I didn’t need any.  Milk and a couple avocados were enough for me and I headed back to Darby Well Road and parked in the same place by five feet.  Not suppose to see more rain until Wednesday.

Inside dead Saguaro Cactus

I will probably just stay here and continue waiting out the storm, whether that’s rain and/or virus.

Like many full-time RVers, I don’t have a home to go to as I’m already in it.  Guess that’s not entirely true, as my other home on wheels should be going back to Bryce Canyon National Park next month.  If they’re still open.

Many difficult times around us, label them as you may. Yet the reality is life of the possibly kindest species on the planet. We are capable of love, giving, and kindness even on the worst of days. Crisis sets us all atwitter, no tweeting needed. Yet under the worse of crisis we come together.  Keep taking care of yourself, and others if that’s possible, while waiting out the storm.

May the luck of the Irish be with us all.

Happy St Patrick’s Day!