As I sort through accumulated treasures of the last eight years ready for the removal men to box up our lives and whisk them away, I tear up now and again. I have petitioned for this move to England and yet . . . . we have been comfortable in our Arizona bubble of the good life.
My days consist of meals out, coffee with friends, swimming, shopping, yoga, reading, writing, blogging, walking amongst the desert flora, book club, watching wildlife from our balcony, writing group and wearing lightweight to barely any clothing all year round. What’s not to like?
Unbearably hot summers are alleviated with air-conditioning or going north. Our neighbor expressed it as eight months of heaven and four months of hell. Even now when it is 105° outside we’re comfortable, until the electricity bill arrives.
Our quest for the last eight years has been to look for the perfect place to live. With family spread around the world, there is no such place for us but all other factors considered we came close to it in southern Arizona. The weather has been kind to us in our ridge top apartment as we’ve watched monsoons and dust storms sweep through the valley from the comfort of our balcony. While the rest of the country endured an insufferably long winter we put the heat on now and again and wore trousers instead of shorts.
All photos taken from our balcony. Please click to enlarge. Go on! You can’t see them properly unless you do, especially the dust storm and the pink rain!
Monsoon rain, Fountain Hills AZ
Snow on Four Peaks AZ
Sunset glow on Four Peaks AZ
Sunrise, Fountain Hills AZ
Dust storm, Fountain Hills AZ
Sunrise, Fountain Hills AZ
Sunrise Fountain, Hills AZ
Cloud formation, Fountain Hills AZ
Moon rise over Four Peaks AZ
Pink rain! at sunset, Fountain Hills AZ
A moonscape? Not with palm trees! Fountain Hills at sunrise.
The next few months, year? two years? will consist of uncertainty, insecurity and temporary accommodation tempered by the warmth of family and friends. At least I hope they will be pleased to see us.
I have made a pact with himself, the green card-toting Englishman, who apart from his views on politics and guns could be a native Arizonian. For two or three months each winter – possibly beginning December 26th – we will cross the English channel and head south until we reach sunshine.
Right now I am in my anxiety default position – brain freeze and inertia. I gaze at our apartment with Native American and Mexican decorating touches and my American Southwest photos adorning the walls and don’t want to touch a thing.
Our year’s hiatus from travelling, cocooned in comfortable stationary housing, has turned into two-and-a-half years of spinning our wheels.
Which way now? The UK beckons.
I need a new blog title. What do you suggest?