March 6, 2011
As much of the country is still dreaming of spring, we here in Phoenix are right in the middle of it. Spring represents something different here, in that, it’s the small window of perfect between “sort of chilly” and the seventh layer of hell.
Spring is the time of open windows, sunshine kissing your face and your shoulders, wildflowers blooming and my favorite smell, orange blossoms. When I was a little girl, Phoenix was surrounded by hundreds of acres of orange groves. You would go to sleep this time of year with the heady fragrance tickling your nose and flavoring your dreams. These days, many of the groves have been replaced by housing developments and shopping malls. Orange trees still line the road that I drive to work each day, and every once in a while, I get a fleeting hint of the scented blooms. I know that the orange blossom is Florida’s state flower, but it is something that takes me instantly back to my childhood here in Arizona.
We are also inundated by baseball players. We live very close to the Surprise Stadium, home to the Kansas City Royals and the Texas Rangers. We like to take the kids and walk to the stadium. We buy lawn tickets and spend the afternoon in the grass, eating hot dogs and peanuts, drinking lemonade, waiting for a home run to be hit our way.
Living where we do, we don’t often go anywhere for Spring Break. This is the place to be, and the only thing missing is the ocean. Even that is only a five-hour drive – something we do in the summer, to escape the searing summer heat.
So, while you are waiting for the snow to melt and the first bulbs to break through, we are dancing ahead, meeting Spring at the door, taking her coat and sending her in to you.