Dancing in the rain

We have an astonishing prediction of rain likely every day this week, after June had no measurable precipitation at all - more confirmation of the severity of drought this year. There have been only 22 dry Junes in Northern Arizona since record-keeping started in 1906. The first rain yesterday and the prediction of rain all week is a sudden and dramatic start to the monsoon season. Time to celebrate. The first of my celebrations will be: when (if) it starts raining today, I will play Gene Kelly's "Singing in the Rain" on YouTube and all the way through it I'll grin til my face hurts and then perhaps I'll go out and do my own dance.

In the long distant past I have danced naked in a warm rain and I think it's time to do it again. For sure I'll have plenty of privacy - I've never seen anybody but me in the forest when it rains. There's always a chance someone will surprise me, but hell, if they never before saw a 79-year-old woman dancing naked in the rain, it's time they did.

Gene Kelly, Singing in the Rain on YouTube.
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I don't need rescuing, thank you very much please

Today I walked a long way into the National Forest that surrounds my home in the mountains of Northern Arizona. I was following a dirt road along the top of a ridge where I seldom encounter other people - that's why I go there. I have a favorite spot close to this road where I sit on the ground, leaning against a rock, to watch the setting sun. While sitting there today, a man on an ATV passed on the road. He didn’t appear to notice me although I was sitting quite close to the road. Of course, on an ATV, at any speed on your attention needs to be on the road in front of you.

The man disappeared over a rise that is the summit of a long grade down to a junction with another road that leads out of the forest. The sound of his engine grew more faint and finally disappeared altogether. But about five minutes later, perhaps even longer, I heard an engine again, faintly at first, coming closer and closer, and soon it was clear the vehicle was coming up that same long grade. Soon the same man on his ATV appeared at the top of the rise but stopped when he came abreast of where I was sitting.

“I drove all the way to the edge of the forest and I didn’t see a car. I couldn’t figure out where you came from. Are you all right? Did you need any help?”

“I’m fine,” I said. “Just sitting, enjoying the sun and crisp air.”

There was a moment of silence while the man looked mildly troubled and seemed at a loss for something to say.

So I said, “Haven’t you ever seen an 80-year-old woman, miles from anywhere, in the middle of the forest, sitting all by herself and having a perfectly swell time? But thank you for coming back to check.”

I was almost laughing as I said this but the man looked a bit troubled. Finally he smiled weakly, turned his ATV around, and headed back from whence he came.

I’m 79, not 80, but I thought 80 was a better line; 80 sounds a lot older than 79.