I'm so tired of hearing people say that Arizona (or, more specifically, Phoenix) doesn't have four seasons.
Um, yes, we do.
They are called summer, fall, winter, and spring.
The same seasons the rest of the world has.
Granted, Phoenix will not have any scarlet and gold bursts of fall color. There will be no snow blanketing the ground in the winter. But there are four seasons here. I should know. I've lived here (almost) my whole life.
I can feel the moment summer's blaze mellows into fall, when the sun shifts and no longer burns your face off the minute it crests the horizon. The mornings are cooler, the evenings come sooner and the leaves on our trees turn gold.
Winter here is short, but for several weeks we'll wake up to find intricate patterns of frost on the windows of the cars, the water in the horse's bucket frozen solid. The trees shed their leaves and the days shorten, yellow sunsets melting into crisp blue evenings spent by our fireplace.
I know it's spring when our Mulberry trees sprout tiny green buds and the brown grass comes back to life. The desert trees burst with pink and yellow flowers. Birds build nests on our roof, bees buzz by the windows, and the fragrance of orange blossoms floats on the breeze.
In case you weren't counting, that's four seasons.
So, please, in the future, say you don't want to live in Phoenix because it gets so hot, or because you miss the snow, or because you can't stand the way we drive. Please don't say you have to live somewhere that has four seasons. Because we do.
I feel a lot better now,
The Brown-Eyed Girl