Storms

by

Chasing Clouds in Big Bend

It is rare for me to head to our cabin in Big Bend without a list of projects to tackle. In fact, one of the things I enjoy most about spending time there is planning and completing projects that make our off-grid cabin and property a little more comfortable and enjoyable.

The physical work is always a welcome change of pace. For me, there is something deeply satisfying about working with my hands, seeing progress at the end of the day, and investing in a place that has become a refuge for rest, reflection, and adventure.

However, on our recent trip to Big Bend, my project list was unusually short. Nothing major on my list, just a few projects that could be finished in a matter of hours. It felt a bit strange to arrive with so little to do, but I took it as an opportunity to find new ways to relax and enjoy the beauty of this vast and rugged region of Texas.

Instead of focusing on what needed to be built or repaired, I gave myself permission to slow down. I spent some quality time working on some devotional lessons. Cheryl and I also drove into Study Butte to eat at our favorite Mexican restaurant. Of course, we always enjoy sitting around the fire pit to wait for the golden hour, when the waning sunlight turns magical, and the stars start to fill the vast desert skies.


What I enjoyed most, however, was climbing on my electric mini-bike and chasing clouds. For whatever reason, the clouds captured my attention. They looked so dramatic and beautiful against the deep blue sky as they drifted above the mesas and bluffs. I spent hours riding up and down the dirt roads, chasing them across the horizon and stopping to photograph their ever-changing shapes and shadows.


As the day wore on, the clouds eventually joined together to become a storm, complete with thunder and lightning. Cheryl and I loved sitting on the porch of our cabin and watching the desert storm roll across the landscape. In a place where rain is rare and precious, a storm is better than television. As the winds arrived carrying that distinctive fragrance of approaching rain, we found ourselves thinking of John Denver’s words: “You fill up my senses, like a storm in the desert.”


There are few experiences that compare to that moment. The sky darkens, the temperature drops, the wind begins to stir, and the fragrance of rain fills the air. It is one of those gifts that is difficult to describe. You do not simply see the storm—you feel it, smell it, and breathe it in. For a few moments, the desert comes alive in a way that engages all your senses.


As night fell across the desert, the distant lightning became even more dramatic. Flash after flash illuminated the horizon. Every flash revealed the outlines of mesas, bluffs, and clouds that had disappeared into the darkness. The light show was mesmerizing—nature’s own display unfolding in silence except for the occasional rumble of thunder rolling across the desert.


It was a wonderful way to end the day and to spend our final night at the cabin. Sitting on the porch, watching the storm move across the distant landscape, we were reminded once again why we love this place so much. The rain brought refreshment to the thirsty desert, and in its own way, it refreshed us as well.


Sometimes the best moments in Big Bend are not found in accomplishing a project or checking something off a list. Sometimes they are found in slowing down, chasing clouds, and watching a desert storm roll across the horizon.

by

A Storm in the Desert

There is a majesty that is associated with storms in the desert — perhaps because the desert provides unobstructed views that allow you to behold the immensity of distant or approaching storms. Or perhaps because you can feel the thundering waves of power wash over you even from a distance. But perhaps best of all is the way a storm in the desert scents the air with its distinctive fragrance that signals a change in the weather.

When John Denver wrote Annie’s Song in 1974, an ode to his wife at the time, he described how she filled up his senses “like a storm in the desert.” Those of us who have experienced storms in the desert can easily relate to Denver’s lyrical description. A storm in the desert will fill up your senses as few other things can.

Shorty after purchasing our property in the Big Bend Valley, Cheryl and I experienced our first storm in the desert. Even though the storm was miles away, it felt as though it would be upon us at any moment. The wind picked up and began to swirl up the desert dust as we felt the vibration of distant thunder. It was amazing — but also a bit intimidating.

Because we did not have any shelter at the time, we dropped what we were doing and headed to Little Burro Country Store three miles away where we sought refuge on the front porch. We were not alone. Other locals had also gathered there. And although the storm never came close to our little place, we nevertheless felt its ominous presence.

Since then I have experienced more storms at our Chihuahuan Desert getaway, the last one late at night. Before the sun ever set I knew the storm was coming. I could see it gathering strength far to the north. A little after ten at night it arrived with a volley of pea-sized hail and then sheets of rain accompanied by the most incredible displays of lightening.

I was especially excited about this storm because we had just had our water catchment system installed — seamless gutters diverting rainfall to our 1125-gallon container. Within an hour, our empty tank was filled with almost 300 gallons of water. We calculated that 1-inch of water falling on our 420 square foot roof would capture as many as 260 gallons of water. Our calculations were spot on.

We purchased our desert property because we just can’t get over the beauty of the surrounding mesas and mountains and the indescribable magnificence of the night sky, complete with Milky Way bisecting the heavens. Add to that one more reason why we love the desert — storms. John Denver was right. A storm in the desert will indeed fill up your senses and make you appreciate the awesome beauty of wide open places.