About November I started to get indignant on behalf of the Southwest. If you look at any holiday crafts or stirring illustrations or photographs depicting "holiday", it's always of cold weather images--snow, trees with falling leaves, sweaters, cold and colder, deer.
Whereas here, even if we don't have snow (and I am so grateful not to be in Cleveland now, you have to believe me) we do have colder weather. Everything has turned yellow and brown but the cactus, and the leaves are falling off the trees. Pinecones too. Christmas in Phoenix means you briefly consider making your own tamales when you encounter the huge display of masa and corn husks at the grocery before shrugging and saying "Screw it" and calling La Canasta to place an order. You go down to Tempe Lake to check out the boat parade--people decorate their boats with lights and sail down the strait while they have a huge narration on a big screen. Your neighborhood decorates with lights and luminarias and people can actually walk the streets and admire them. You need a sweater; it's in the 60s during the day and temperatures drop 20 degrees at night, but the sun's out every day and the oranges are getting ripe. Tempe Marketplace has a billboard saying they have a snow show every night at 7:30pm. Having recently encountered real snow, I don't get the fascination with getting sprinkled by a snow machine, but it takes all kinds.
It's beautiful here. I don't think I love Phoenix, but we're in a mutually satisfying hookup. Life has been better for me here than I ever thought it could be. I am happy.
Merry Christmas.
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