You forget to put your sunshade up in your car and when you return and put your hands on the steering wheel, you only get second-degree burns and don't need to seek medical help.
The shower can finally give out cool-ish water instead of very warm when turned all the way to "cold."
When the shadows off the cactus grow longer and create crazy hobgoblin shapes across your gravel landscape.
The craft stores shyly fill some shelves with scarecrows and pumpkins and if you stand near an air-conditioning vent and don’t look out the window at heat dancing off the pavement, you can almost imagine it is autumn, especially if you start sniffing the candles. (Caution: this can cause hallucinations of colorful leaves, burning wood, and chilly noses)
Kids go back to school in their brand new fall clothes, tank tops and cargo shorts.
The swimming pool goes from being 96 degrees (the same temperature water hot dog venders use to keep their weiners ready for eating) and becomes a brisk 86 degrees and capable of almost refreshing you (if there’s a powerful breeze and the sun hides behind that one tiny cloud in the sky).
One rainstorm in September comes in from California instead of Mexico and you know things have shifted from the tropics to the Northwest. Following the storm, we’re into “fall,” in that the nights are now in the 70s and the contrast between the 100s to the nighttime feels almost tolerable.
Honestly, the only way to know it’s finally become autumn in Phoenix is to watch the trees, green and robust, finally turning colors in late November/early December. (Everyone’s still wearing shorts, but have a long-sleeved t-shirt on now).
Phoenicians, please step right in and offer some more descriptions.