In Seattle, the calendar bends around the weather — you wait out the gray and chase the short, glorious summer. In Scottsdale, the rhythm inverts. Summer is the season you adapt to, and the other eight to nine months are the reward: open-air dinners in November, golf in January, hikes at sunrise in March.
Most Seattle transplants describe the first Arizona summer as the hardest part — and the moment in their second October when they realize they’ve stopped missing the rain as the moment it clicked.