Snowbird report from Arizona

Stan Rolfsrud writes:
The weatherman is giddy at Station KOLD Tucson. He has actual weather to report in Arizona. People are listening.
A network of rivers runs through Tucson. There is never any water in any of them. So they save a lot of money on bridges, just paving the roads up and down through the little valleys they call "washes." If there ever is water in a wash, you're not supposed to drive on those roads. But people do any way, making for really good television while emergency crews heroically bail them out. They passed a "Stupid Motorist Law" to deal with this nonsense. It's a lot cheaper than building bridges over the "rivers."
Stupid Motorists made numerous television appearances today. Actual water has even flowed into the Rillito River, of all things. A resident says she can't remember that happening for at least a decade.
We certainly hope that they are collecting this windfall in big reservoirs somewhere, so that it can be properly dispensed over the golf courses during the seven lean years, much as Joseph instructed Pharaoh to do. Well, sort of. We really would like to avoid the Southwest going ahead with its plans to divert water from the Great Lakes.
Today, despite warnings of danger and perdition, me and my dog, Birdie, took our daily run/walk, bundled with warm stuff we brought from Minnesota. Sure enough. There was weather outside. It blew. It rained. And then it hailed. Yes, it hailed the tiniest little baby hail you've ever seen. It made Birdie sort of ecstatic and squirrely, not knowing what to do. She's been out in real weather before and she wasn't sure what this was supposed to be and how to act.
She's not the only one. Arizonians flock to the rivers, just to watch water flow by. "It's so peaceful," they coo.

Weathermen are busy predicting even more weather. Look out for the "thundersnow," they warn. High in the mountains, snow is falling by the foot. Emergencies have been declared in Flagstaff. An excited weatherman last night predicted that the snow may come "crashing" to the desert floor here in Tucson. It didn't happen, but you just never know.
Sadly, the entertainment ends Sunday. The climate will stop making history and we'll get back to 60 and sunny, just in time for our friend Franny to step off the airplane to ask what all the fuss is about.
She's lived in Minnesota all her life. How do we explain that the excitement is about water in the rivers?