The Purple Patch - Missouri Valley College

Beauty in the Sonoran
by Sydney M. Robb
I grew up in the foothills of the Rincon Mountains,
located in the Sonoran desert. From the age of four up
until my freshman year I resided in my step-father’s adobe
home, isolated from the hustle and bustle of city life. His
home was unique from any other house I had ever seen.
The roof was outlined in collected saguaro ribs and along
the outside walls were massive windows, proceeding one
after another. It was my private observatory. From my
bedroom I often watched deer lope across hills and mother
bobcats navigate their babies across the extensive lands.
In the winter the desert looked dry, like the smallest
touch could crumble the leaves upon mesquite, or
patches of wild grass would become a cloud of dust with
the slightest disturbance. It was the summer that was my
favorite time of year, though. By then the condition of
the Sonoran desert would change: winds shifted and the
monsoon storms pushed through the foothills, bringing a
heavy downpour of rain and lightning that would light up
the sky. In such a calm environment, these storms brought
a violent and alluring nature to the landscape. Quite often
the roads would flood and streams would pore over and
create new ravines. As a child I always wanted to play in
the water, and always my mother would tell me no. Most
times I’d obey her, but every now and then, when her back
was turned, I would sneak out the front door onto the
patio. Even now when I think back, there is still a natural
intimacy about standing in the heavy rain: to feel the
downpour of cool water as it soaks your clothes and
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