While daytime highs nudged 110° F, we built a roof for our back porch. That exercise taught us several lessons about living in the desert.

	Get up very early and enjoy the rosy dawn from your rooftop, in that city-above-a-city where the neighborhood cats dwell.
	Afternoons are good for drinking iced coffee in cool, dark bookstores.
	Siestas are not a luxury. Shelve your guilt and indulge!
	At dusk, Fourth Ave. fills with Punk Rockers, Rastafarians and Hari Krishnas. The police helicopters buzz our neighborhood and arrest the usual suspects. The watch dogs join in the chorus of sirens, and life in Tucson returns to "normal".

In late June, the monsoon rolled into town several weeks ahead of schedule. It began with a blast of white dust and mist, followed by a spectacular display of horizontal lighting.

Just before the rain, the creosote bushes perfumed the air with memories of the ocean that once filled this valley.

We finished our porch roof just in time. Now there's nothing to do but unplug the computers, turn off the lights, and enjoy the show.

We've all heard rumors about the virus you contract by "disturbing the earth." But everyone knows that Valley Fever comes from not having the good sense to leave town at the end of May like everyone else.
Monsoon season permanently rearranges your brain cells, and explains the high degree of personal goofiness that characterizes year-round residents of Tucson.