As I write early on a Sunday morning, the orange splash of sunrise is just beginning to appear on the McDowells.

The gentle breezes stir in no particular direction, creating a whisper of chilliness in the air.

Shadows still dance across the landscape, perhaps beckoning the sun to stay back just a few minutes longer…

Contrary to popular belief, we actually do have four seasons in the Sonoran Desert – it’s just that some are longer than others.

They are not cut into four cute and equal quadrants.

However, at least at this particular moment, it’s difficult to believe that “autumn” in the desert isn’t the best season we have in the Hills.

The heavy oppression of the monsoon season has finally lifted – the humidity, the dust, the blast oven feel when opening the garage door or any door for that matter.

The windows can be opened, letting in those slight fall breezes and the fresh air of coolness not anywhere close to triple digit heat.

At least for right now, in this Kodak moment of time, I declare autumn in the desert as my favorite season of the year.

I love the fall traditions we’ve established here – Ballet Arizona Under the Stars, Oktoberfest, the Homecoming Parade on the Avenue, Halloween in the Hills (also on the Avenue) and the raking of multi-hued leaves into huge piles.

OK, I admit that last one is a bit of a stretch.

We in the Hills of the tall Fountain don’t have the colorful fall foliage they boast about in the White Mountains of Arizona or in Vermont, but we do have the annual rite of scalping the Bermuda grass turf down to the dirt and planting winter rye seed.

Those folks aren’t out in January shooting rounds of golf on green turf, are they?

We might not be able to put live pumpkins on the porch because the javelinas will attack them at 2 in the morning, but we can rip up the summer flowers and put in the geraniums and petunias for the winter months.

And we can drink up those pumpkin spice lattes with the best of them in the Midwest or up in the Seattle area.

Sure, it still gets hot in the afternoon during October, but at least the sun relents before 6 p.m. And there are actual shadows stretching across the ground – seems in summer there are never shadows, only bright blinding light from 5 a.m. to 10 p.m. for months and months….

And of course fall also means football.

I know in the United States here we have plenty of baseball and basketball purists, but in my book there’s nothing quite like “fútbol Americano.”

Winter is nice here and so is spring, although once the blooms and the heat start in March, April and May, it can only mean one thing – summer is a comin’.

So that’s why I hereby declare and proclaim that fall is the best season in Fountain Hills.

Of course, if winter is super cold and rainy, you might want to check back with me in March…