Like a Storm in the Desert: Cancer’s Subtle Gifts to Me

Like a Storm in the Desert: Cancer’s Subtle Gifts to Me
A Lump in the Road column It started in the middle of the night when we heard unfamiliar tapping on the roof. “Rain?” my husband said, mystified. “Maybe I should make sure the windows are up in the car.” He put flip flops on his bare feet and headed outside while I listened to the patter. Last year, we moved from our home in northern California, where it gets cold and wet in winter, to the desert, where it’s warm and sunny 350 days a year (or so the internet says). Yesterday’s drizzle turned into a shower, and it continued all night and all day, the most water this area has had in almost a year. But the best part will happen in a week, when this arid landscape will explode into bloom. I can’t wait to hike at Joshua Tree National Park and the great walking trails even closer to home. Desert plants I’ve never noticed will delight the world with remarkable blooms that pop with rare, short-lived bursts of color and new other-worldly fragrances will drift into the air. One shrub is called creosote, a spiny plant with tiny green leaves. After a rain, miniature flowers speckle it’s branches, blossoms so small they’re almost indistinguishable. But their fragrance hovers like an invisible cloud of perfume, sweet and exotic like jasmine, but spicy and citrus-y like Christmas, a smell so unusual it hangs in your memory and defines a moment. That fragrance, like those elusive desert blooms, is beautiful and fleeting. Walk too fast and you’ll miss it, but if you take the
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2 comments

  1. Samantha jones says:

    Hello Nancy we met today.. you gave me your colum and I can tell you now I have chills all over my body.. your writing is beautiful and I can’t wait to read more ♡
    -samantha jones

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