It started at 2:45 this morning, by my watch. The wind blew, the lightning crackled, the thunder roared, and the rain came driving down with a fury.
By way of background, our annual rainfall in the Phoenix area has been traditionally around 7 inches, although for the past few years we've had a drought; I don't think we've hit 5 annually for a while.
But last night and this morning, we set a recorded-time record, now over 3 inches and still climbing. The last time it rained nearly as much (2.91 inches for the day) was in 1933, well before most any of us were born.
The effect in Phoenix was incredible. Roads and freeways became impassible in many areas. People were getting stuck with their cars in low areas. Manhole covers popped off, and cars got stuck in the invisible open holes. Slipping, sliding and crinkle-fender everywhere. Some schools closed. Many people had no way to get to work, or if they did, it was by wide detouring. Trees and plants blew over. Never have I seen anything like it, and I've lived in this area for many a year.
About two hours ago, the main storm passed over, and I got the opportunity to walk around the neighborhood and take some pictures of the aftermath of the epic event and not get soaked.
Here is a picture of Squaw Peak, with the remaining clouds from the storm still hanging low. Yes, that's a young Saguaro cactus, and some cholla as well.
This is a normally dry wash near our home - I'm sure the water was even higher earlier in the morning.
Turning around 180 degrees from that picture, here is the water rushing down a normally dry gully on its way to nourish more of the bone-dry desert.
Thankfully, storm damage in our neighborhood was minimal; power remained on and there were no downed trees. One of my neighbors lost a couple of decorative organ pipe cacti, though. You can see on the trunk of the palm tree the direction of the force of the storm.
Dealing with a storm of this magnitude was rough this morning, but at the same time we appreciate the blessing of so much water that this area vitally needs. Thought I'd share the joy!
We'll be enjoying the greening of the mountains and desert in the weeks to come, but hating the prospect of pulling weeds where none had grown before. In the years to come, we'll be asking each other "Where were you during the great rain of '14?"
John