[Welcome Sideshow readers!]
I live in Lubbock. Last year was the wettest spring and summer since the NWS had kept records here. Then in October the rain quit. Until this week, when over a three-day span beginning Tuesday we had four inches fall.
But it’s May in West Texas, and there’s nothing gentle about the weather. This is not snow on the side of the road. It’s hail.
and lunchtime that day looked like this, downtown:
I tell you all this because tomorrow is the anniversary of the worst storm ever to strike my hometown. It was the Lubbock tornado, May 11, 1970.
And yet, this is how we greet rain in Lubbock, even when it comes with darkness and hail:
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That last photo is GREAT Sarah
Thanks! (The desert did, indeed, bloom.)
[x] Any (D) in the general. [ ] ?????. [ ] Any mullah-sucking billionaire-teabagging torture-loving pus-encrusted spawn of Cthulhu, bless his (R) heart.
Desert plants are like that.
I used to like in the Mojave (Barstow-Ft.Irwin) and I learned that many desert plants lie dormant for long periods. When the infrequent rains come, they burst into action.
There is a political metaphor here but I’m not sure what it is.
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” … we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender …”- Winston Churchill