It’s November and I’m still wearing shorts. This living in the Sonoran Desert is still taking some getting used to, almost two years after we moved here. dsc_7053This year, more than last, I find myself missing the brilliant autumn leaves of my years in New England—perhaps especially as I see them posted by friends on Instagram. So I’ve been posting some of my own favorites, last week and this, culled from photos taken on trips back to New England since we left.

On the other hand, I really don’t like cold weather, so I’m happy to still be wearing shorts. It’s a bit of a catch-22; I love watching snow fall outside the window of a warm house, but don’t enjoy bundling up to go out in it. The beauty of the seasons involves much that is gorgeous when viewed from a distance, but not as much fun when we’re out in it—especially when we’re responsible for raking up all those leaves once they leave the trees behind.

So I find myself—bottom line—appreciating life in the Sonoran Desert. We can go visit family and friends in colder climates without being responsible for raking leaves or shoveling snow. There’s a saying here that expresses the feelings of a lot of “snowbirds”: you can’t shovel sunshine.

Leaves still fall here, though not always in autumn. Some fall after the rains cease. Others seem to be kicked off their branches by next year’s growth. Leaves do have their season; even evergreen pine needles do eventually fall—though some have a lifespan of five or more years.

And so I look outside my office window, admiring how the sun illuminates the tiny green leaves of our mesquite trees and learning to live more fully into this green autumn.

What realities about your own life are you learning to accept more fully? What aspects of the seasons speak to you?

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