Autumn's coming! It's the Solstice!

The signs are everywhere! The Equinox is here! Hello, first day of Winter!

Socks.

A lovely silver haired snowbird once asked me, in the most polite manner possible, “How can you Tucsonans tell when it’s Fall? The desert is so timeless! Where are the seasons? How can you tell when it’s winter?”

“That’s easy,” I said, “We know it’s winter because that when you show up.”

I smiled at my fair weather friend.

This week I was in my hammock tracing the fat branch of the gnarly olive tree spiraling over my head up into the blue sky, flush with luminous olive green leaves. I was blissfully idle in what felt like an Autumn day. Quail clucked, cactus wrens chuckled, patches of clouds meandered overhead and actual breezes breezed over me. Where was the heat? Could it be that summer is ending?

Asking such a questions always tempts the Gods. The next day it was over 100.

Here’s how I can tell Autumn’s here. Because it’s official. It’s the Solstice! Summer’s done. Kaput. Over. Fall’s here. Bureaucrats and meteorologists say so. It’s the first day of Fall. Can you feel the chill in the air? Me, neither.

No matter. There are signs everywhere that it’s Winter, Elsa and Olaf. Take it from this old desert rat: It’s the season to watch for icicles forming on our sombreros.

You can touch your steering wheel again and the city is unrolling the sidewalks they rolled up back in June. The eggs you fried on the sidewalk today are under cooked compared to last week’s scramble.

These are the little clues we look for.

Fewer of my friends are wearing popsicles in their pants pockets and more of them are joking about the ice melting in the Santa Cruz again and perhaps most telling, the javelina are beginning to smell like Pumpkin Spice. And the license plates are changing colors faster than the tailgaters are changing lanes.

I’ll bet you’ve even stepped outside after 9am. Mis amigos, your casita fever has broken. Free at last!

I spotted seven snowbirds at our quail seed block this morning and I’ve noticed that frost is lingering longer on our Margaritas these days.

The “A” on “A” Mountain looks less flaccid and more pert these days. Winter words are coming back. Words like “perky”. I haven’t used the word ‘“perky” since last May.

Any day now Tucsonans will transition from from singing “It’s a hundred and ten in Gila Bend” to whistling “Autumn in New York”.

Chihuahuas are another indicator of seasonal change. Chihuahuas in sweater vest sightings are up 79% and 97% of us say we can’t wait for the Sabino Creek water to be too cold for wading and an overwhelming majority of jackrabbits polled are “jacked” for Autumn.

With cooler days we’ll have more crowds trudging up Tumamoc. On weekends downtown Tucson and Fourth Avenue will be packed with nocturnal wildlife. And on chilly Sunday mornings fewer swamp box coolers will be humming. In the cool silence we’ll hear the roosters crowing, the mission bells ringing and the Tucson natives whining about the “cold”.

The season of Pastorelas, the Day of the Dead, Christmas Tamales and Ice-skating on the Santa Cruz is just around the sun baked corner.

I know it’s Winter when our thoughts turn to the “Old Pueblo Holiday Radio Show”. I hear from Rosa and Carlos that Frosty the Snowpuddle has been seen getting his tickets.

A sure sign it’s winter in the Old Pueblo? The shrieks of fashionistas horrified to see old men wearing socks with their sandals. And me? I think it’s almost time to wear socks with my sandals.