Storm Chasing
To me, there is nothing more beautiful than rain in the desert.
There is something sacred about watching a parched landscape drink deeply from the sky. When dark storm clouds gather over the red rock, I find myself chasing them, hoping to catch the moment when water begins carving tiny streams across the slickrock.
As Utah continues to burn like a bonfire, this recent storm felt like a gift. It wasn't nearly enough to tame the wildfires consuming the mountains and cabins we love, but for a little while, it brought relief.
As soon as I saw the rain moving toward the desert canyons, I climbed into my car and headed south.
At first it was only a sprinkle. I stepped out, camera in hand, and felt the cool drops soak through my shirt. The temperature had fallen nearly twenty degrees, and I wasn't dressed for wandering, but I couldn't help myself. I left the road and wandered over the slickrock, watching each raindrop spread across the sandstone like watercolor blooming on paper.
It reminded me of making coffee-filter butterflies as a child. We'd drip colored water onto the dried filters and watch the colors slowly spread outward in delicate circles. The rain was doing the same thing, only this was nature's watercolor—painted across stone that had waited months for a drink.
One of my favorite sounds in the world is thunder—the deep, rolling kind that seems to shake something inside you. I tried to capture it on video, but recordings never do it justice. They can't hold the feeling of standing beneath an enormous sky as thunder echoes through the canyons and lightning briefly turns the dark clouds silver.
I found myself hoping the storm would last for hours. I wanted it to grow louder, stronger, more dramatic. I wanted to witness what happened when a thirsty landscape received more than it knew what to do with.
I couldn't convince my son to come with me. He wanted nothing to do with the storm. Meanwhile, I was chasing it—drawn toward its power, wanting to experience it in its fullest expression.
It made me wonder if I respond to the storms in my own life the same way.
The truth is, I don't.
I usually see them coming. I've learned to recognize the signs. When they arrive, I do my best to embrace them because resisting rarely changes anything. But I don't chase them. I don't look forward to them or welcome the uncertainty they bring.
