My walk this morning was unexpectedly dramatic. Rain had been in the forecast for yesterday and today, and when I saw the sky darkening in the west and south, I decided to head out before it arrived—if it arrived. It isn’t uncommon for even heavily laden clouds to skirt us at the last minute, or stubbornly withhold their precious moisture until they’re farther south.1
As I stepped outside, I could hear that it was sprinkling … but it was loud. Unusually loud. I didn’t think much of it, though, and continued on my way. The “rain” was continuing to get louder, and once I turned the corner and was walking into the wind, I came face to face with the source of the noise.
Well, face to ice is more accurate. Tiny bits of hail pelted me, stinging my face as I walked up the hill. I changed my plan to just walking to the mail area to check our box. The hail increased in both volume and size and my pace increased concomitantly, as the impact of the larger pieces was starting to hurt.
As I approached our building, the storm began to diminish and was spent within a minute of me being back inside. The timing was aligned so well with my walk that were I a religious person, I might think that it was a message from a higher power, but a lot of storms are like that here. They’ll rage impressively but briefly. Only during monsoon season are longer rains common.
Knowing that the hailstorm was likely done for the day, I wondered how long it would take for the intense, high desert sun to appear. It wasn’t long, and as it brightened the landscape, a song I used to listen to frequently came to mind.
I think I discovered Crowded House via a friend who was a fan; I have vague memories of hearing the compilation I have—1996’s Recurring Dream, which is mostly a greatest hits release for their first four albums—from road trips with them. This would have been in the 2000s, when I was regularly making long trips from one rural home to another, sometimes with my kids, sometimes without. I had no idea who the band was nor how successful they might have been; their beautiful music, thoughtful lyrics, and captivating singing made me a fan.
As this was a contemplative period for me and I was actively exploring more music genres than I had in years, “Four Seasons in One Day” became one of my favorite songs. That was undoubtedly aided by how often those trips, especially through western Montana and Snoqualmie Pass, would make the title literally accurate. I’m happy that it came to mind today; it’s an apt break from the funk snippets that have been popping up like prairie dogs.
Our weather patterns are affected by the Sandia Mountains to the east, which makes accurate forecasting rather more challenging
👏👏 Been a Crowded House fan forever. 👏👏