It took about 15 months, but I can honestly say the makeover is done. I have successfully disposed of every reminder of my previously superficial, dramatic, more-of-everything-based existence.
The metaphor of the rising Phoenix is appropiate, if too easy to use, but the timing of it is perfect. As the end of September signals, The Valley of the Sun has risen from the deadly heat of summer just as I have risen from the toxic misery of materialistic living.
In the shade of a Ponderosa Pine on a perfectly still, 85 degree Monday afternoon, I am looking out over the 14th fairway of The Lakes at Ahwatukee Golf Course. I’m taking in the view of a rolling sea of emerald grass broken by a snakey stream flowing under a walking bridge and emptying into a reed-lined lagoon.
Palm trees dot the landscape like flagpoles flying the frond flag of the desert. The seasonal transition from bentgrass to winter rye results in an even quieter day. The course is closed for over-seeding so there are no duffers cussing their slicing Titleists. Just mallards paddling through the glistening water under the clear cobalt sky.
When a soft breeze breaks the stillness, it feels like we’ve finally made it. The travel-brochure weather that melted away in May is back. The four months of surface-of-the-sun living is at a merciful end.
Think of the best weather where you are. That’s what we’re blessed with almost daily for the next eight months- eight months of ahhhhhhhhhh.