The temperature has been in the 108-112 range for weeks here in Lake Havasu, but it really is not too bad as long as the humidity remains low, which most of the time in the desert, it does. We have an evaporative cooler ducted into both the living room and the bedroom windows, which is quite functional in the dry weather. The advantage of using the cooler rather than air conditioners (we have three roof mounted ones) is it much less expensive to operate, and the unit functions more quietly.
It was hot this afternoon, and humid, so about 2 o’clock we turned on the air conditioner, leaving it running when we went to the car a little before 5:00 to head over to teach a Bible study at the home of Michelle and George Hope.
As we headed toward the highway, my vision was distinctly jolted as I looked to the sky, and saw looming mountains of the most spectacular cloud formations. The view was staggering; the cerulean pristine sky a backdrop on which tossing gently were mounding billows of purest blue and white hues My camera was in the car, and I was exclaiming at the sight when Jerry said, “Well, stop and shoot a few frames,” but I couldn’t for we were already running a bit late.
The first thing I did when we came outside after the study was to lift my eyes, and yes, the spectacular clouds were there. Our next stop was Mike’s where we would do some church planning, and I was standing beside our car snapping pictures when he came from his front door, exclaiming with me at the spectacular skies.
Mike had left Jerry and me in his living room while he went to pick up a pizza, and we were lounging around on the couch when I heard a peculiar sound that seemed to come from outside. I was literally stunned when I looked through the windows. The sky had lowered, the white clouds were gone; palm trees were whipping. I grabbed my camera and as I snapped off a couple of shots, the wind blew so hard it knocked me off balance, and completely turned over a deck swing. Cushions were flying, and then came lightening streaks. Across the lake on the California side, we could see black bands of rain. The lightening increased until it was a literal show lasting the better part of two hours, streaking through the now blackened skies; at times it completely lit a window as though a flood light had been thrown.
An unannounced Monsoon had moved in. When we drove home, the temperature had dropped 30 degrees. It is almost midnight now. There are no coolers blowing, no fans roaring. I sit beside an open window. I feel a cool breeze on my face, and I pick up the gentle sound of raindrops slapping onto the parched Arizona soil. Occasionally, a drop flings through the opening and dashes my hand. Through the window I see a yellow glowing street light and its long reflection on the wet pavement. Heaven must be near.
My devotional blog is here.