Weird Factoids about Arizona…

I like Arizona. I am not a native (most Arizonans aren’t), but I instantly fell in love with the cactus, the sun, the mountains, the way coyotes move over rocks and roadrunners across roads, the granite boulders, the mineral smell after rain, and the enormous sky.

Most of my weird factoids have nothing to do with the natural world, however. Instead, I was prompted by this weekend’s return to Standard Time to acknowledge that…

Arizona does not participate in Daylight Savings Time. A few other places in the country similarly opt out (a corner of Indiana, for instance), and so here in Arizona we actually watch while most of you change times around us. What that means for us is (1) no extra hour of sleep in the fall; (2) no loss of an hour’s sleep in the spring; (3) we move from being on Pacific Time during the summer to being on Mountain Time during the winter without lifting a finger; (4) practically speaking here at The Nest, we move one hour closer to my parents every winter (they are on the east coast) and one hour farther from R.’s parents every winter (they are on the west coast); (5) it is nearly impossible to explain to either set of parents twice a year why we are no longer where we used to be time-wise in relation to them.

However, the Indian reservations in Arizona do not participate in Arizona’s shunning of Daylight Savings Time, which means that they DO participate in it. So, for instance, the Hopi Reservation (Three Mesas) changes, while the surrounding state does not. And to add even more confusion to the equation: the State Park Service headquarters inside of the reservations do NOT change…so you can actually be standing in a time zone, within a time zone, within a time zone, like Chinese Boxes. Cool.

Arizona allows voters to register as “Non-Party” members. It actually shows up on your voter registration ID looking as if you belong to the so-called Non-Party Party. I do. I think that it is kinda cool. Where I grew up (Maryland) and where I used to live (Michigan), you had to belong to one or the other of the two parties in order to vote in the primaries, and then you always had to vote your registered party. Not so in Arizona. Here in Arizona, you can walk into the voting place on Primary Day and request which ballot (Republican or Democrat) you would like to vote that day. I regularly request the Republican ballot on Primary Day so that I can vote against the most heinous offenders. It doesn’t seem to really matter in this very red state, but it makes me feel better.

In Arizona, altitude is everything. I can look up from my front porch and see the town where I work (or, at least, the sky above the town since it is tucked down in a bit of a “bowl” created by the surrounding mountains), and it can be blizzarding there and be sunny at my house. Ditto with the rain. The town is 25 miles away, but 1,000 feet higher in elevation than here at The Nest. In fact, there is a 400-foot elevation range on my own property, and that can make a huge difference in the weather up “there” versus down “here.” I grew up with the idea of weather systems that covered entire regions, entire states at once. But, here, weather is local and dependent on your height above sea level. It also can snow “upwards” here. Just come sit on the edge of my canyon sometime during a snow storm. The snow flakes fly straight up, without the aid of wind gusts. There is some imperceptible wind currents that make it do this, but it can really freak you out the first time you see it.

By the way, saguaros stop growing at 3,000 feet above sea level. PRECISELY. Too cool. You can rest assured that you are EXACTLY at 3,000 feet above sea level when you see the first saguaro cactus on your way down into the Valley of the Sun. It is better than clock work, this altitude thing. We are at 4,200 feet here at The Nest, so no saguaros.

Contrary to popular belief, we actually do have a bit of fall here in Arizona, especially in the north. It is just starting here now, and it is lime-yellow. No oranges and reds (except in a very few distinct places where maples grow). The cottonwoods and aspens are the yellow culprits, and they make the washes look like giant golden cracks in the landscape:

I can’t remember what my other factoid was because my brain, I swear, is turning to swiss cheese. And I have to grade papers tonight, which really doesn’t bode well for its progress. If I remember, I’ll post it later on.

**UPDATED: I remembered what the other factoid was, and I can see why I tried to forget it: Arizona is ranked last–dead last, 50 out of 50–in the state rankings of “Smartest State Award” for at least the second year in a row. At the top of the list? Vermont, followed closely by four other New England states: Massachusetts, Connecticut, New Jersey, and Maine. (Should I point out that these are all traditionally blue states? Hmmmmm.)

On a personal note, my elder stepson (who is 25) is currently living in New England with his girlfriend (the reason he moved there) and is hating it. He wants to come back to Arizona. Desperately. His top reason for the hostility? “The people are just not right back here.” Yeah. Right. Can you tell where he went to school?