A time for turning

More often than not, when Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish new year, rolls around, the desert is still so hot, still so very much summer–the monsoon thunderstorms over, but temperatures still topping 100 F–that it doesn’t feel like it can possibly be time for the high holidays at all.

And then, sometime during the ten comtemplative days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, something changes. Some wind comes through, the edge leaves the daytime heat, the nights take on the touch of coolness that says to me yes, this is autumn. The haze leaves the air, and the mountains stand out sharply against the crisp blue sky, ridges and canyons distinct even from here in the city.

My first year in the desert, it seemed strange to celebrate Rosh Hashanah without the trees turning red and yellow and the smell of autumn leaves and the crunch of those leaves beneath my feet, without needing to reach for a sweater and jacket. Now, I feel the turning of the year as strongly as I ever did in the northeast, or the midwest.

Shanah tovah and a happy autumn, all. May the season’s turning bring good things to us all.