Spring Fashion

It is said that southern Arizona has only two seasons: summer and not-summer. Six months of torture and six months of convincing ourselves the other six months really weren't that bad because these six months are downright glorious.

Sometime toward the end of the Glorious months, Spring, an actual season, makes a brief and uplifting appearance. It starts early. Tentatively, in January, when our trees are simultaneously dropping leaves and budding out, and the bulbs are starting to poke through the dirt. And then a couple of nights of freezing temperatures slows everything down. Oh right, Spring says, the calendar says it's still winter, let's wait until March.

And then it happens. Over night.

Orange blossoms. And jasmine. It's intoxicating.














The citrus trees are covered in snow.


















The pomegranates are blossoming. . .














. . .and the figs growing.














Daisies and wildflowers popping up everywhere.

There are rose buds and lady bugs. . .


















and grapes.














Warm afternoons and cool nights. Tiny, fragile hummingbird nests. Breezes rushing through open windows and doors, threatening to knock over delicate trinkets and potted plants. Wind chimes, wonderful wind chimes. Birds singing through the night.

And knitting out on the front porch.














Joggers and hikers. Home mechanics and music. Teenagers and clueless other-agers in shorty-shorts and flip flops.

For a few short weeks, promises and illusions of bounty to come.

And then it happens. Over night. It's gone.














Summer is upon us.

And the shorty-shorts are out in full force.