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By Mom Unplugged, October 8, 2007 12:29 pm

This weekend made me realize why I love where I live. Colder temperatures have driven most of the summer people back to Phoenix and Tucson and our little mountain community is settling back down to its normal, peaceful atmosphere.

Saturday was quite cold and extremely windy, but people bundled up and sat on the curb of our main street to watch the annual “Nutty for Nature” parade. It was so cold that honestly, if I had not had two children in the parade, I would never have considered leaving my warm house at 8AM to sit on the curb in the wind. But, motherly duties forced me out of my snug den and onto the chilly street. Much to my surprise, it was an uplifting experience.

My children’s small Montessori school had a “float” in the parade. The “float” was entirely designed and constructed by the students. I use the term “float” loosely, since we are not talking Rose Bowl quality floral here, but rather flatbed truck and bales of hay, but you get the idea.

The children were all vibrating with excited anticipation at the idea of riding on a “float” in a real parade. Surprisingly, judging by the large turnout, people were actually in attendance who did not even have children in the parade! Joy was in the fall air as the firefighters and floats filled with happy children drove by waving and laughing. Even the inevitable Shriners on their funny motorcycles were a hit with the crowd.

As if that wasn’t enough excitement, Sunday was “free ski pass for kids day” at the local ski area. Kids bring a can of food to donate to needy families, recite one rule (by heart) from the “Skiers’ Code,” and they can get a free season’s ski pass, worth hundreds of dollars.

It was a perfect fall day. Still cold, but the wind had disappeared. After getting our ski passes, we took a lift ride to the top of the mountain. We glided silently up through massive stands of aspen trees which glowed bright yellow against an impossibly blue sky. The air became chillier and chillier as we approached the top of the mountain.

Upon leaving the lift at the summit, it felt like being on the very top of the world. The clear dry Arizona air allows for a view that must be at least 80 miles in every direction. Not a sign of human habitation is visible in that view. Simply mountains and plains stretching out forever.

What I learned (or relearned) this weekend:

- I love living in a town where people cheerfully brave cold, windy weather simply to wave at excited children driving by on pickup trucks filled with hay and handmade cardboard cutout animals.

- I love it that I can stand on a mountain on a beautiful fall day and admire a stunning view of nature that remains unchanged by humans.

- I love where I live!

PS. I spent all day Sunday kicking myself for having forgotten to bring my camera, so these great photos are courtesy of my good friend Wishy‘s husband. Thanks Wishy‘s hubby!

This view is similar to what we see from the top of the ski mountain, but the ski view is much higher up:

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By Mom Unplugged, September 16, 2007 10:51 am

Fall is in the air. I can tell by the cooler nights (in the 40′s now) and how it takes much longer in the morning for the air to warm up. The heat has even come on once or twice, albeit very briefly.

Mostly though, I can tell by the light. There is a subtle shift in the color and warmth of the light. Summer light is gloriously warm, soft and yellow. Then one day in September I suddenly realize that the light has become sharply cold, harsh and white. In this photo I tried to capture this light and the way it reflects off the long needles of the Ponderosa Pines. When I see this crystalline glow, I know that daytime temperatures will soon cool down in anticipation of the snows we hope to have despite our long drought.

My thoughts begin to turn to “nesting.” Sorting junk to make room for the long winter of being mostly indoors. Cooking soup, and squash, and pumpkin bread. Putting the garden “to bed” for the season. Monitoring nighttime temperatures so as to bring all tender potted plants indoors before the first frosty night.

Most of the summer inhabitants begin to leave to return to the warm desert areas that are gradually becoming tolerable as we here become cold. Traffic eases. Those of you in big cities will laugh at me when I talk of “traffic.” In the winter we can always make a left turn almost immediately. In the summer it may take a whole three minutes to find a break in the traffic! My goodness, do we permanent residents complain about that!

With the migration of the “Summer People,” as we tough “Year-Rounders” call them, our small Safeway grocery store decongests. The narrow aisles are no longer clogged with Summer People attempting to find (unsuccessfully of course) the same gourmet organic capers that they buy in Phoenix (“The Valley” as it is known here).

The overworked cashiers seem relieved at the exodus and there is something of a camaraderie that builds between the grocery store staff and the “Year-Rounders.” They know us by name and we discuss the weather, the growth of our children, how much snow we might get, and other weighty matters.

The golf course behind our house is gradually depleted of golfers all fleeing the cold. It will close on October 1st and then will become my children’s winter playground. No longer restricted to before 7 AM or after 7PM, the kids run wild out there, flying kites on windy days, having picnics on sunny days, and building snowmen on snowy days.

I think my favorite part of the approaching fall is how the cooler air begins to smell deliciously of pinyon and cedar as those of us brave enough to stay for the winter start to have our evening fires in our fireplaces. If I could bottle the smell of burning pinyon I would make a scratch-and-sniff blog post for you all to enjoy. Even the Wikipedia entry on “pinyon” points out that: “The fragrance of the wood, especially when burned, is unmistakable.” If you have never been in the cold parts of the Southwestern US in the wintertime, open your spice cabinet and find some cumin. Give it a sniff, and that is the closest thing I can think of to the heavenly smell of burning pinyon.