I was born in Michigan. We lived in and around the Detroit area until I was about 14 years old, when my parents moved us to Arizona, pursuing better job opportunities. As I'm sure you realize, it was a complete climate change.
At first it was a grand new adventure. Everything was different, from the scenery to the humidity, to the people that you met. We arrived in August and temperatures were in the triple digits. I almost got heatstroke playing football with some of the local boys. My new junior high was a series of one level buildings and you had to go outside to get from one class to the other, instead of being all enclosed in one two story building. I no longer had a full-sized locker big enough to store my winter coat (because we generally didn't need them). You can't even buy a heavy winter coat here in Phoenix unless you hit up a camping supply store. We had an outdoor swimming pool you could go in for most of the year (until your blood thinned out and you adapted to the mild winters). My family thinks it's great. For a while, I did too.
As the years passed, I never really adapted to the summers here. I can't take the heat. We don't get a true Autumn season - the undeveloped areas are pretty much flat desert, with some scrubby bushes and cacti here and there, maybe a Palo Verde tree or two. Deciduous trees are planted in some yards and areas by residents, but it's not the wild, natural growing expanse found back in the Midwest. I don't even have grass in my yard - just gravel and weeds. There is no massive color-changing leaf drift to rake up and jump in. Most of the trees don't lose leaves at all. The sky is pretty blue year-round. Nothing changes here.
Perhaps that's the problem. Maybe I've just grown bored with scenery that never changes. As a kid I used to go into the woods all the time and just explore. There was always something to see. And as the seasons changed, they would trigger certain expectations and excitement in me. The smell of rain and fall leaves meant Halloween was coming. We would always make a trip to a cider mill and a haunted house - they were everywhere. Add in some frost and maybe a little snow and Thanksgiving was right around the corner. Winter meant sledding and snowball fights and going to the festivals to see ice sculptures. Out here, there's just kind of an apathy when holidays roll around, and I think it's because we're missing all the seasonally inspired mental triggers. It makes me kind of sad.
I keep saying I want to leave - even if it's just to move up to Flagstaff, but it just never seems to be financially practical. So another year passes, and I find myself, like I do tonight, roaming the internet in search of pictures of Fall leaves and bonfires, pinecones and acorns. It's not the same as being there, but it's at least a little taste of childhood, a little glimpse of a dream half-remembered. I've lived out West for 23 years now - longer than I was in Michigan. But it still doesn't feel like home.
