Middling monsoons still bring a spectacular summer to the borderlands

This summer’s monsoons were few but far between — starting off strong and raising hopes in July, the storms were nowhere near significant enough for what the desert needs to thrive. As we enter September, it’s hard not to feel bittersweet about the cooler temperatures to come, and the rains that didn’t. 

Left to right: Mexican star lily (Milla biflora), Shrubby copperleaf (Acalypha phleoides), and Whiteflower acacia (Acacia linifolia).

Despite the lack of rain, wildlife is resilient and many species are gearing up for fall migration. Bats are convening around flowering agave and the few streetlights in town, and hummingbirds are squeaking and competing for a spot around the bird feeders. Borderlands Wildlife Preserve was active with many visits to our wildlife drinkers this summer, Arizona poppies have been popping off, and grasses are finally flowering. But in the Huachuca mountains, the wildflowers have transformed the ground into a carpet of color.

Left to right:  Firecracker bush (Russelia equisetiformis), Longleaf false goldeneye (Heliomaris longifolia), and Velvetpod mimosa (Mimosa dysocarpa).

With more plant diversity comes more insect diversity, adding to the splendor of the encinal foothills that characterize this special place right along the border. Grasshoppers, centipedes, and walkingsticks jump, crawl, and sway through the greenery in search of food before the intense heat fades into the first frost this coming fall.

Left to right: Panther spotted grasshopper (Poecilotettix pantherinus), Arizona walkingstick (Diapheromera arizonensis), and Giant desert centipede (Scolopendra heros).

Being able to work outside and witness the changing of the seasons day by day is a special experience — something I didn’t know I needed until I did this type of work Now I patiently wait for the Panther spotted grasshoppers to appear in the Huachcuas, or for the first Mexican star lily to bloom. More than ever, I notice and enjoy the slow seasonal transition after months of relentless heat (and mosquitos). Soon the sights and sounds of summer, like the whistling gray hawks and buzzing cicadas, will fade into fall. I’ll miss seeing the vultures once they leave town, and I’ll await the reemergence of the magical fireflies. But each season brings its own magic, like the yellowing cottonwood leaves and sandhill cranes of fall that are soon to come.