The frogs were still singing at 2 a.m. when I finally fell asleep. This morning I am greeted by overcast skies as the sun brightens a patch of gray to shining silver in the east. A light breeze ruffles my hair as I lean against the block wall in the back yard soaking in the day. Bird sounds are everywhere from the staccato chirping of house finches to the melodic twittering of lesser goldfinches. Mourning doves and White-winged doves are cooing their songs to the day. The mourning dove’s song is soft and soulful, while the white- winged dove sounds frantic and busy as it calls out “Who cooks for you! Who cooks for you!” over and over.
The raging waters that filled the wash last night have subsided leaving a calm pool in which the birds are drinking and bathing. I see no frogs at the moment but in the distance I have heard a few faint croaks as if the frogs are exhausted from a full night of singing and mating. Within an hour their voices will be totally silent.
I have returned to a world so green compared to the one I left 2 weeks ago. My trees are flourishing in this Monsoon rain and the ocotillos in the desert are fat with new green leaves. Saguaros swell with the abundant water and the desert grasses and flowers are thick once again. I am starting to see hummingbirds and so have made up some nectar and hung the feeders yesterday. This morning as I stand outside enjoying this brief coolness a female of some unidentified variety flew up to check me out, then, as if deciding I really was not a flower, flew off in a zipping huff.