Get up early to enjoy autumn in the desert

It is difficult to find out that one of your core beliefs is a lie.

I know. I’ve been there.

Like many of you, I was misled as a child, indoctrinated and completely brainwashed about ... autumn.

It took a few years of living in our desert paradise for me to come to grips with that stinging deception, and to be able to assist those still dealing with the falsehood, like a reader named Beverly, who sent me a note last week saying, “I know you’ve lived in Phoenix for a long time. Could you tell me how far north I need to drive in order to experience fall?”

Sad.

Where we live, if you do not wake up early you will miss autumn. Autumn in the desert happens at just about the moment the sun peeks over the horizon, shining like a flashlight from underneath a blanket of darkened sky.

I’ve gotten several versions of this question over the years.

They come from individuals who, like me, grew up in places where poets, songwriters and painters duped us into presuming that fall only exists where there are forests filled with leafy trees that turn vivid colors.

We were programmed by those preaching the gospel that autumn only includes places where there is a pungent, musky aroma in the air. And the ground is slightly soggy. And there are low, heavy clouds, and occasional dank breezes that cut through multiple layers of clothing.

It leads newcomers to Phoenix, like Beverly, to conclude that autumn is not a season but a destination.

It’s not true.

There is autumn in the desert. It’s just that, unlike other places, fall in the desert does not linger. It does not overstay its welcome. It does not wait around for us to experience it.

Where we live, if you do not wake up early you will miss autumn.

Autumn in the desert happens at just about the moment the sun peeks over the horizon, shining like a flashlight from underneath a blanket of darkened sky.

You know fall has arrived when you open a door or a window and the air outside is cooler than the air inside; when you walk outside barefooted and feel cool ground on the soles of your feet; when you find yourself rubbing your shoulders, as if there’s a slight chill in the air.

Because there is a slight chill in the air.

Though not for long.

Fall in the desert does not plop down on the couch and put its feet up until its leaves go from green to orange to yellow to brown. Then drop.

Autumn here is not lazy.

It is changeable, temperamental, even capricious.

In Phoenix, fall waits outside your door at daybreak. It will accompany you on a morning walk, although by the time you’re headed home there will be a sense of detachment, as if a sweetheart strolling next to you has loosened her grip, little by little, almost imperceptibly, until you are no longer holding hands.

And you are alone, hoping that when you open the door early the next day she’ll be just outside, waiting.