Lately I’ve been a little lax on the blogging front, as I have been swept up in the spirit of adventure that comes with the holiday season. Namely, this last week my boyfriend, Cam, and his ACE housemate, Anna, drove from Oklahoma City to visit. Cam and Anna both had the full week off for Thanksgiving Break, so we decided to use that time to explore Tucson, Sedona, and the Grand Canyon.
Granted, my housemates, Cam, Anna, and I celebrated Thanksgiving a week early with our “Friendsgiving” Dinner (which, surprisingly, wasn’t too shabby), but even so, this girl can’t wait to tap into that Christmas spirit ASAP. In fact, the whole week leading up to “Friendsgiving” I jumped the gun just a wee bit and rocked out to Christmas music while grading (I’m such a badass), bought a mini Christmas tree at Target (hey, if Target is celebrating earlier, that’s all the excuse I need), and started to hound my family members for their Christmas lists (yes, Mom, we know that you are the ultimate Christmas shopper and have been done shopping and wrapping for months [read years]. I tremble in admiration of your Santa-esque prowess). Point is, I am ready for December 25th: Bring on Christmas! There’s only one problem: It is rather challenging, if not impossible, for a Midwesterner to fully get into the Christmas spirit when it’s eternally sunny and 75° with not a single depressing cloud to mar the electric blue sky.
I know what you’re thinking right now: Boohoo, poor Katie with her warm, burdensome weather. Excuse me while I go unearth my car from the snow mountain that has consumed it since the last five minutes I shoveled my driveway and simultaneously cry empathetic tears that solidify and freeze the cheeks clear off my face. And, if we are being honest, I’d hate me too if I had to battle abominable snowmen every time I wanted to extract food to hoard from the grocery store, but that is not my current situation so let me wallow in my first-world-problem and continue my tale of woe.
As I was saying, given the southern Arizona climate, it can be a little challenging to fully immerse oneself in the Christmas Spirit. Alas, isn’t this the land of eternal summer? How is Santa (I know him) supposed to not sweat straight through his furry red suit when he visits the houses of little Tucsonans throughout the city? How can Bing dream of a “White Christmas” when he looks out his window to find nothing but dirt, gravel, and prickly green evergreen-wannabe monsters? How can I possibly enjoy my peppermint mocha when the Starbucks barista asks if I’d like that hot or cold? (Seriously, how is that even a question?)
On Sunday Cam, Anna, and I embarked on the adventurous phenomenon of driving up Mount Lemmon. The only way to possibly portray this drive is to contemplate flying to three different states, each with their own unique terrain, in a short, one-hour drive. Huh? That’s right: In the hour it takes to drive up Mount Lemmon you transcend at least three different climates and landscapes (there might actually be more than three, but there are at least three to the untrained eye). Indeed, at the bottom you start with normal Tucson cactus-land and red dirt, then you ascend into a savannah/ Dr. Seuss-like topography—I’m not kidding, I think I saw truffula trees—, and finally you arrive in the Rockies. Well, not really, but wouldn’t that be neat?
While you would expect snow and evergreen trees in the Rockies, you would not necessarily expect to encounter them in Tucson, Arizona. That is, however, exactly, what we stumbled upon at the top of Mount Lemmon: Our own Southwestern-style Winter Wonderland. And, not only was the landscape reminiscent of the scene one would stereotypically conjure while ruminating on the magic of Christmas, but our experience was made even more complete with Tucson families fervently pulling off the road to take Christmas card photos of themselves throwing snow in the air, with families building miniature snowmen while lying in the snow in jeans and light sweatshirts, and even with one passionate trio trying to preserve a bit of the frozen fantasy by packing piles of snow in the bed of their pickup to bring back down the mountain. (Hey, Olaf, I’m not sure if you know this or not, but snow melts in the heat.) Truly it was a sight to behold, and, despite our prior experience with snow, the three of us couldn’t help but partake in the same childish excitement of reveling in the white, frozen, fluff that enveloped us. There was white EVERYWHERE: In TUCSON. How could I not be inspired for my next post?
After playing around in the snow for a bit, we decided to embark on a mini hike in preparation for our upcoming excursion to the Grand Canyon. We hiked for about two hours where we both 1) witnessed a spectacular view of the Biosphere 2.0 in the distance, and 2) took a water break which promptly resulted in us building our own tiny little snowman on the side of the mountain trail. Clearly we were living the Christmas dream. It was splendid.
After bidding the snow a glorious adieu, we descended the mountain and arrived back in the arid desert heat, where we decided to preserve and extend the wintery vibes by promptly going out for hot chocolate, uh, I mean ice cream. It was nice while it lasted.
While the treetops didn’t necessarily glisten, it was the perfect retreat from the desert, and the trip was definitely a unique adventurous way to kickoff the holiday season with loved ones.
May your days be merry and bright, and may all your desert Christmases be white.
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