This year I've adapted pretty well to the desert-- I get cold just at the thought of weather in the 70s and 90s seem comfortable. I'm in love with the mountains and brilliant sunsets. Potlucks with more Mexican food than pasta dishes make my afternoon. The cacti have been blooming, and I've nearly been able to convince myself that it's spring time here. . . and I guess it is a desert spring, but there are no daffodils, no town greens to lounge on, no natural water in which one can escape the humidity. . . no humidity to escape. Instead we've got sunshine, with a side of cloudless days. Or, as a radio announcer put it this weekend-- plenty of sand, no beach.
Maybe because schools are getting out here (Kaitlyn finished teaching last week!), because it was memorial day weekend, because I know the 4th is just around the corner. . . but for whatever reason, when Jen, Kaitlyn and I went to see "Something Borrowed" this weekend, the ocean scenes made my ache for seasons and salt water.
[Narragansett Towers]
Keep in mind, this is me speaking... the same me who sleeps with at least five blankets in the winter and can only warm up with regular doses of peppermint tea... but this heat has even made me miss winter! Last night I made my housemates listen to this song by Dar Williams (granted it's about southern California and western New York, two places I've never lived, but go with it)-- And there's another part of the country, with a land that gently creaks and thuds, where heavy snows make faucets leak, in bathrooms with free standing tubs. . . and [southern California] wants to have a snow day, that turns its parents into kids. Or, as Catie Curtis puts it (again, go with me on the whole I live in Arizona but the song is written about California thing): Hey California, I'm about to get my mind blown by spring. Because, the truth is, vibrant as the cacti flowers may be, they don't mean as much as cherry blossoms, or lilacs, or fresh picked strawberries. I guess the thing is that here, you don't have to earn summer. . . you earn winter.
While old adobe homes continue to inspire my imagination and the feeling of cool tile underneath my feet makes my mornings, right now I'd love to see a stained wood beach house, enjoy a cup of del's and even eat a sandy peanut butter sandwich. I want to fall asleep after spending all day in the water, my body still remembering the movement of the waves. I even want humidity, and despite being a vegetarian have starting craving clam cakes.
[Pt. Judith]
As much as Tucson may try to celebrate summer, most of the city clears out until September and the 4th of July fireworks always end up setting Mt. Lemmon on fire.
As the radio commercials proclaim:
Tucson, the only place in the world where you run INSIDE during the summer.
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