Indian Summer: Baby, It’s Hot Outside
I like heat. I love the desert. Where others see nothing but stark land, I see architectural beauty. The curve of a giant saguaro. The steep grade of boulders leading to a palm oasis. The mountain silhouette darkening against a brilliant, fading sunset.
I love the vast flatness. I like being able to see all around me. I know what’s coming (and what’s not). I breathe deeper in the creosote-scented air, watch hawks play on the thermals, listen to the birds and hear the ghost of an ancient drum. I sense the unshakable, enduring life everywhere and feel the peace.
As much as I flirt with the idea of living in some fantastic, cultured urban locale like San Francisco or Boston, I don’t think I could ever permanently leave the southwest. Dry heat, you are my comfort zone.
On the other hand, I do appreciate a change of season and, yes, we do have one, even in southern California.
This winter, I’m looking forward to turning off the air conditioning, baking goodies sprinkled with warming cinnamon, and decking the halls.
Even I, of the eternal tank top and flip flop must say: 93 in November??
‘Tis not the season!