Summer in the Southwest is a beautiful season, but the beauty can be harsh and heated. How do you know when summer arrives? Don't bother with the calendar. June 21 has about as much bearing on the Southwest's summer season as both Washington's and Lincoln's birthdays do with the third weekend in February.

Summer in the Southwest begins, and this is the only definitive method for making the determination, when the water distributor or "spider" you need for your evaporative cooling device is sold out. An evaporative cooling device, in case you're a bit confused by the terminology, is also known as a "swamp cooler."

The idea for evaporative cooling originated in ancient Egypt. Ralph Imhoptep IX, a distant relative of Ramses II, accidentally discovered the concept while watching a group of nubile young dancers perform in the Pharaoh's palace. Sitting next to an open window, he noticed the effect of the gentle Nile breezes on his sweat covered brow. Returning home, Ralph improved on the concept by draping himself in a linen soaked in Nile water. Two groups of young nubiles were hired. One to dance, and one to fan Ralph with palm fronds. Ralph died a happy man according to the hieroglyphics on his tomb wall.

As civilization moved northward, evaporative cooling became less and less of a need and finally was forgotten altogether. The Vikings, for example, very early in their colonization of Iceland, Greenland, and the coast of Nova Scotia, discovered that heating, not cooling, was their major problem. If their brows became a bit sweaty while watching fur clad nubiles perform, they had only to step outside for immediate cooling relief.

This brings us to the modern age and our mechanical coolers. The modern swamp cooler, as you might imagine, was not even invented on the planet Earth. The actual design was invented by a committee of Satan's top demons under the guise of making hell more livable. As with all things designed by committees everywhere, the coolers were not quite a success. Politicians, lawyers, and HMO doctors, which make up the majority of hell's inhabitants, have about as much of a chance of enjoying a cooling breeze from one of these machines as they do of enjoying an ice-cream sundae.

But that's hell. The design specifications for the machines we use in our world were apparently relayed to two Spiritualists, George and Prudence Doyle, by one of the demons posing as a spirit guide named Attila the Sweaty. George and Prudy supposedly tinkered with the design a bit, then applied for a patent.

Mechanical things, of course, need maintenance. Maintenance on your swamp cooler should be done at the start of the cooling season. If you happen to be watching "Xena, Warrior Princess" or "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" on the tube, and your brow becomes a bit sweaty, quickly switch channels to William Buckley's "Firing Line." If your brow remains damp, and you're sure hot flashes are not the cause, the time to ascend to the roof to unwrap, unsheathe, and perform maintenance on your cooler has arrived.

You would do well to plan your trip before making the actual climb. Be sure to have all necessary tools

available before you begin your ascent. A screwdriver is a necessity, even if you think you have nothing to screw or unscrew. This tool can be useful for stabbing vermin which may have nested in your machine after it was turned off and covered. Wrenches or pliers for hooking up the water supply, an oil can for oiling the motor, your garden hose for cleaning up debris, and a flashlight so you can see into those nooks and crannies should complete your ensemble. Speaking from experience, I once made five rooftop trips before my cooler was ready for action. If you are a person with excruciatingly severe acrophobia a single trip can be a major act of bravery. Try to limit your terror.

Once your rooftop chores are done, testing your cooler is an easy task. Simply turn on the water, plug in the power supply, then position yourself directly under the vent. Turn the control switch to "high cool." This should tell you two things. One, that your fan is working, and two, that you didn't clean the machinery anywhere near well enough. You should have a change of clothes handy unless you prefer to wear an entire winter season's worth of dust, dead vermin, and miscellaneous debris that you missed in your earlier rooftop cleanup.

When the dust has settled, which shouldn't take more than a couple of hours, you'll need to check for cooling efficiency. While the cooler is running, approach the vent rapidly. There should be a difference in temperature between where you were standing and the area directly in front of the vent. If it's cooler in front of the vent, all is well. You may reward yourself with a cold beer. However, if it's warmer in front of the vent, you have a problem which will require a minimum of at least two more trips to the roof.

Before hauling out the ladder again, you'll need to do a scholarly review of possible causes for the lack of cooling. With a little luck your mental review should take long enough to sip about six beers. This, in turn, should give you an excuse not to go back up on the roof till the following day, assuming the beer didn't do strange things to your climbing inhibitions.

There could be several reasons for the lack of cool air. Cooling pads should be high on your suspect list. Old cooling pads get gunked up and will not allow a sufficient flow of water and air. If hosing the old pads down doesn't do the trick, there are two options for replacements. You can replace the old pads with cheap straw pads. These pads last about two weeks and will gently waft straw over the entire cooling area as they deteriorate. Secondly, you can replace the old pads with pads made from an artificial material, possibly asbestos based, which will last about eighteen years. These pads are a bit higher in price, ranging from about seventy-nine dollars to around a hundred and fourteen dollars each.

You may have a problem with your water pump. If the old one has somehow become ill and passed away during the winter, you'll need a replacement. Luckily, pumps are relatively cheap, only seventeen ninety-five. However, your plumber's bill, in all probability, is going to be a bit higher. Somewhere in the neighborhood of eight hundred bucks.

You may be lucky though, and only need a cheap plastic water distributor, or "spider." Just six dollars and ninety-nine cents. But like the friendly "Ace is the Place" person told me, "Sorry, that model's sold out."

"Hello Summer!"