I’m in Prescott, Arizona, making my quarterly pilgrimage to teach in the graduate programs of Prescott College. This weekend we’ve had more precipitation than I’ve ever seen here in eight years of visits. It started with snow on Thursday morning—wet and slushy but gorgeous:
An hour later the snow turned to rain, and it rained—and rained and rained—the whole day. Heavy, driving rain. Rain that soaked you the instant you stepped out in it. Rain that collected as three inches of slush on the ground. I didn’t stay outside long enough to get photos of the raging creeks. Too bad. They were spectacular. And dangerous. A six-year-old boy apparently drowned some miles away.
The rain of course melted most of the snow—until evening, when it turned to snow again and snowed all day Friday. Here is Butte Creek, usually a dry wash or a trickle running behind the campus. Not this weekend. Friday it was inches below Sheldon Street:
Today, Saturday, the sun is threatening to shine, and patches of blue decorate the sky. I took a walk this morning, relieved at last not to have rain or snow pelting my face.
Butte Creek is flowing strong but is down some inches from yesterday. The place is beautiful!