Wild is the music of autumnal winds
Amongst the faded woods.
– William Wordsworth
I live in a place where we don’t experience certain seasons, at least not like other parts of the United States do. Seasons here in sunny southern Arizona are: “too-damn-hot” and “bragging season”. That’s all. I mean, we get monsoon season too… but that’s not a true season. It’s just an influx of haboobs.
Luckily, we’re finally moving into bragging season. Time for the months when we can cheerfully call our sweater-wearing relatives up north: “Hey, it’s December and I’m by the pool! Whatcha doing today? Shoveling, eh? Bummmmmer.”
I don’t miss the snow. Not at all. What I do miss are the changing colors of the trees. Okay–and trees (that aren’t palm or mesquite or palo verde).
And squirrels. I swear all we have are coyotes and snakes.
Anyway… I’m happy about bragging season finally arriving. I’m tired of driving my car with oven mitts on (kidding–sorta). I’m really looking forward to the cold water taps on our sinks actually pouring out cool-ish water again (no kidding, the “cold” tap is always hotter than the “warm” one during the summer here).
So, what’s the best season of the year where you live?