Bring on the bermuda shorts!

I thought it was autumn. You know, the season when the sun starts to set earlier, when the leaves turn flame-colored and fall from the trees leaving skeletal trunks to stand naked for the next three months, when there gets to be a bite in the air and you see boots and sweaters on your neighbors, the magical season when you can finally see your breath in the morning. Apparently, I was mistaken.

Oh, the sun still sets earlier, but that's about the only similarity I've noticed as I've settled in once again at home (in this sense, the place where my family dwells). Today was the fifth consecutive day of record temperatures for this time of year (as in, exceeding 90 degress). November hasn't been this warm in Phoenix since the early 30s.

This is wonderful news for the snowbirds (I guess the politically correct term is "winter visitor"). To those of you unfamiliar with this moniker, a snowbird is a person from Canada or the Northern or Midwestern United States who spends a large portion of the winter in the Sunbelt region. Translation: retirees who can feel a cold front moving in from two states away and decide to take up residence near the golf courses.

Now, I've never been the victim of rheumatism, and as such, I can't really tell you what a cold front feels like. but I do know that I do not share the need for 90 degree weather at this time of year. While I am appreciative for the chance to wear flip-flops again, I hope you never hear me sing the song popularized by Anne Murray:

"Spread your tiny wings and fly away
And take the snow back with you
Where it came from on that day ...

So, little snowbird, take me with you when you go
To that land of gentle breezes where the peaceful waters flow..."