Albuquerque’s rainy season usually starts by the second week of July. Most afternoons, clouds build up over the mountains, mountains themselves, billowy white high above and gray-black below. In the late afternoon, the clouds move out, a procession of kachinas, dumping rain quickly over parts of the city, leaving other parts untouched until the next storm. The temperature can drop 20 degrees in minutes. Seldom is the sky full of clouds, but a mix of storm, blue, and rainbows. Rain during the night is much less common and more likely to be what some call a female rain: gentle and nourishing, unlike the violent and raging male rain (I’m insulted but can’t really quarrel with this).

New Mexicans know this cycle by heart. We long for it. When it begins, we run to the window, step out onto the porch, or pull over in our cars. After the rain, we are all smiles.

This year is different, beginning with a dry and bitter-cold winter, then a spring windy beyond comprehension. We’ve gone months without any rain. The monsoon stumbled in weakly at least a month late. During the day, thin clouds come and go, but little or no rain. If the rain comes, it’s at night and sometimes furious. Last night, lightning and thunder woke us at 1am – no time for a fierce storm. Still, this morning, everyone I met spoke of the rain and smiled.