Growing up in my little town included views to the west like this one...
Just north of this "M" (for Miners, the college nickname) Mountain was a peak that looked amazingly like a strawberry and so it was called. Our house in the farming valley northeast of town gave us a glorious view of both.
The month of June for us was hot and dry, but usually around the 4th of July, the monsoons would start. During that season, most mornings would begin with a bright, blue sky and not a cloud in sight. As the day warmed up, the clouds would build over the mountains to the west. They would grow in intensity during the afternoon and quite often bring a shower with them.
Before the flood control project provided a bypass for the water, my dad would watch the storms roll in. A hard rainstorm over Strawberry Peak meant that water would rush down the arroyos (washes, creeks -- what do you call them?). The path ultimately included a drainage canal that usually carried just a few inches of water. A couple of times the canal overflowed its banks and covered our little farm area in water.
Our region had four distinct seasons, each beautiful. Summer could be enhanced by the fresh fruit and vegetables we raised and by the smell of freshly cut alfalfa in the fields. Fall brought the county fair and a load of school activities. Winter included snow only occasionally but left me with some great memories. Spring meant our entire property was in blossom.
For some reason, it was the unpredictability of the summer monsoons that I now cherish the most. To me, life can be like those days with clear skies followed by storm clouds followed by the fresh air after cleansing rain.
Thinking back to your town, which season did you like best? Why?