I can’t believe it’s been over a week since my parents came to visit me, and we were spending the morning touring Downtown Scottsdale, something I’ve been wanting to do since my move out here. My parents were not in New Jersey anymore-traded in their sneakers for sandals, hand-picked local vegetables at the Old Scottsdale Farmer’s Market, and grabbed their cowboy hats to photograph the cacti and authentic Arizona architecture. I could tell they were enjoying themselves, and I was too. I had warned them that people were more outgoing here, well more wiling to smile or say hello to a perfect stranger, than those back home. Sure enough, the first person they encountered was a native from New Jersey, who like most others in the Phoenix/Tucson area, but they enjoyed knowing that no matter where your travels may take you, you’ll always find someone with some sort of connection. One of the many reasons I love traveling so much. I definitely felt like a tour guide talking about places I knew, or attempted to remember from my visit two years ago. With the day still young, but no idea where to head off next, we chose to take a drive through the scenic roads of Paradise Valley and gaze at the beautiful homes and ranches. I envied the homes with entire walls of windows, imagined what it’d be like to wake up to the sunshine and mountain skyline everyday. You would wake up feeling alive!
Over the top garden decor, now if I only had a yard large enough
For a brief moment I felt like I was back in Philadelphia, and I missed the city and summers back home
A garden of herbs in Scottsdale’s Arts District