Fall Comes to Phoenix

NOTE: Join Quinn at Barnes + Noble at Desert Ridge (Tatum and the 101, Phoenix, AZ) tonight, October 6, 2011 (Thursday) at 7 p.m. to try a different technique–and to get your book signed!

Yesterday, we had our first winter storm–the temperature dropped from three-digits down into the 80s, and rain beat the dust out of the air. There was a 30-car pileup on the 10 between Phoenix and Tucson, caused by blowing dust. It’s hard to describe to people who don’t live in the desert, but the dust begins to blow, and visibility drops, and as the dust drifts across the road, the pavement vanishes and creates a seamless desert. I hope this is the last of the dust storms in this Monsoon Season.

Migrating birds have started to arrive–the long-legged herons sit in trees along the Gila river and around golf clubs. In the next few weeks, she’ll see a lot more–sandhill cranes travel through Tucson, hummingbirds travel in such numbers that you often hear the metallic whir of their wings before you see them.

Migrating snowy egrets sit in palo verde trees along the Gila River in Phoenix.

Small, colorful seed eaters, big swooping hawks all appear, use the bird bath, and continue on. Many birds fly at night, so while we are dreaming, they are overhead, honking. Yep, Canada geese (not Canadian geese, please, we aren’t talking citizenship), those big noisy birds with the chin-strap marking, fly at night, at heights that keep pilots in jetliners awake and worried. If you are up late at night, you can see flocks flying across the moon. It’s magical.

It’s fall in Arizona, and the very mark of autumn that I thought I left back East–bird migration–is here, too. I’m happy watching the birds I don’t recognize travel through.

–Quinn McDonald is a writer an naturalist who lives in Phoenix.

Fall in Phoenix

Back East, you know it’s fall when the leaves turn red and yellow and the nights get nippy. Phoenix has a fall season, too. It’s not always summer here. It’s just a bit more subtle than in other places.

Here’s how you know it’s finally fall in Phoenix:
1. The lines at movie theaters, restaurants and plays develop and get longer. It’s a sure sign the snowbirds are back. Like migrating birds, snowbirds show up in the fall and fill up the parking lots and theater seats. I love ‘em. It may not swell the tax records, but it helps us keep afloat from a retail standpoint. It would be nice if they followed our traffic rules. That thing about just stopping in the middle of the street when you hear a siren is weird.

2. The birds come back. In the summer we have pigeons and grackles, maybe a gila woodpecker and quail. But once you get into late October, the rising sun is accompanied by the chatter of migrating songbirds who stay. We are on the other end of the migration trail, and have the hawks, grosbeaks, and cardinals to prove it.

3. The citrus ripens. All summer long, the citrus was green and small. Now it starts to grow, then lighten. Around October it turns lighter green, and you can distinguish the fruit from the leaves. The fruit then turn yellow, bottom to top. Then it begins to smell heavenly and it’s ready to eat around mid-December.

4. The RVs come back. People who own RVs often also own land in Flagstaff or Prescott. North of Phoenix where the elevation gets above 4,000 feet it is also much cooler. People haul their RVs to parks or their cabins and have a great cool place for the summer. In the fall, when it gets too cold, they come back. In droves. It’s hard to hide a bus-size RV behind a fence. But people do.

5. It’s time to plant. Cooler fall weather allows for planting of trees, flowers and aloes–plants you cannot plant in the summer because it’s just too hot. Pansies thrive here in the winter, as do sunflowers. Tomatoes don’t work in the fall, the nights are too cool, but there are other fruits and vegetables that do fine–I’ve grown peas and salad greens all winter long.

Not all of Arizona is a desert. Flagstaff gets about 120 inches of snow every winter, they’ve already had the first freeze. Prescott housed the frontier capitol and has fabulous fall foliage and festivals. Payson is close enough to the Mogollan ridge to benefit from higher elevation and cool fall temperatures. Welcome to Phoenix–come visit and enjoy your winter.

–Quinn McDonald is a writer, artist, naturalist and creativity coach.

 

Four Seasons: Fall in Phoenix

Back East, it’s fall. Apple-picking time. Fields are plowed under, corn harvested, and fields are readied for fall fun: mazes for Halloween formed out of straw bales, pumpkins showing up in farmers’ markets. There are chilly days, and birdbaths may have that skim of ice on them. It’s definitely fall.

palm trees reflected in a swimming pool © Quinn McDonald, 2009

Here in Phoenix, it’s also fall. Our fall is a bit more subtle. The sun has now dropped far enough South so the pizza-oven heat is broken. We no longer have strings of more-than-110 degree days, and our nights drop into the 70s. The pool is no longer hot every time you get into it. It’s brisk.

RV’s come down out of the mountains and are parked in front and back yards. Some of these are big, and, frankly, I hate to see them looming over fences. I don’t own one, so it looks like jealousy if I complain.

Migrating birds start to show up. Birds we don’t see for most of the year suddenly are in the parks, at the bird bath and feeders. Except for pigeons, we don’t see many flocks of birds from April to September. Now they are back.

Oranges and lemons start to grow again. They stopped growing in May when it got too hot. The citrus trees drop their sun scorched leaves and put out some new, tentative leaves to make up for it.

House plants you took in to protect them from the heat can be put out again. It’s time to plant tomatoes and crops that burn up in the summer. Tomatoes, peppers, and flowers can go into containers now. They’ll be on the Thanksgiving table.

Sage, desert willow and Cape Honeysuckle start to bloom again. Most plants don’t bloom in the heat of summer. Some trees drop their leaves. They come back now, ready for milder days and using the water to produce lush flowers instead of simply survive.

Fall in the Southwest is a time of promise. Promise to start hiking and exploring again. Promise to invite people over for outdoor eating. It’s a surprising time of gratitude that outdoor life can start up and our utility bills head down.

–Quinn McDonald is a writer, life- and creativity coach. She teaches business how to write clearly. She is also a journal writer who teaches people who can’t draw how to keep an art journal.