For the record. 3.8 inches of rain last night between 3 and 4am. It’s on the record here in the office, kept since 1907. The ground just sucked it all up or the dry air evaporated it by this morning. There were a few puddles, but otherwise the only difference was the humidity and the new combination of smells. The air feels thick and tropical. The smell of moist creosote bush. The odorous fermenting of a dead saguaro that lies behind the storage shed.

There are many new saguaro flowers every morning, while fruit continues to ripen and fall. All stages of reproductive life are in full swing.

But the Moon of the Ripe Saguaros is coming to an end in the traditional, all but forgotten, Tohono O’odham calendar. Up here, it is the only calendar that makes perfect sense.

I know what’s coming next: the Moon of the Big Rains.