Its April in Arizona. The valley of the sun grows quite as our snow birding Canadians leave one by one, those of us, full time residents, remaining huddle together, like hippos in the Serengeti, congregating by their ever shrinking drinking hole.
Soon, our numbers will be so small, that we will have to look elsewhere. Like a migrating herd of elephants, we will let our memories guide us…to where we found games in summers past. Sometimes we will travel up to an hour, just to find a game. Most times its by invitation only…and sometimes its no games to be found at all.
So we curse the day our Canadians and Snowbirds leave in April, and count the days until September when the cold winters of the great white north force their travel back the warm abundant sun of Arizona…and we wait patiently…for our pickleball courts to once again bloom with the sounds of laughter, pickleball, and friendships renewed.
When you play Pickleball…sometimes…the sun gets in your eyes 😦
From: The Pickle Bob Book of Wisdom
The Pickle Bob 
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