Maybe you’ve heard about the skies here in Arizona. Big. Beautiful. Endless.

No?

After hearing a song that truly touched my soul — “Arizona Sky” by Grandpa’s Cough Medicine — I felt compelled to tell you about it for myself.

I can’t speak for all of Arizona, but I can speak for Tucson.

Coming from the West Coast, I grew up admiring sunsets over the ocean and watching for the elusive green flash at the horizon. When I wanted to see the Milky Way, I had to drive into the mountains, searching for that one stretch of darkness untouched by city lights.

Here, it’s different.

Tucson is mostly flat, though four mountain ranges cradle the city in the distance. They’re far enough away that nothing interrupts your view of the sky. You can watch the sun — or the moon — rise slowly over Mt. Lemmon. You can see a storm approaching from miles away, the gray curtain of rain sweeping across one side of the city while another neighborhood still sits in sunshine. And the rainbows… they stretch from one end of town to the other. (My phone camera has never quite done them justice.)

One of the most remarkable things about Tucson is that it’s home to DarkSky International. No, not a villain’s lair — though it sounds like one. It’s an organization dedicated to protecting the night from light pollution. The entire city works together to keep artificial light to a minimum so that the telescopes on Mt. Lemmon and at Kitt Peak National Observatory can have the clearest possible view of the universe.

And that view isn’t just for professional astronomers. The observatories welcome the public, too.

But you don’t even have to visit an observatory to be amazed. At Mesquite Haven, we’ve noticed the moon rises late for much of the month, leaving the sky open, dark, and perfectly clear. On those nights, the Milky Way doesn’t just appear — it commands attention.

Tucson has even created a self-guided Astronomy Trail, inviting people to explore the region’s observatories and stargazing sites. It’s a point of pride here — and rightly so. Astro Trail

But it isn’t only the night sky that captivates me.

Most days bring brilliant blue overhead. When clouds roll in — especially during monsoon season — the drama begins. Towering formations rise and shift in shapes that stop me in my tracks. I’ve pulled over more than once just to photograph them. And the sunsets? Layers of color spilling across the horizon — gold, coral, violet — as if the sky can’t decide on just one masterpiece.

So I suppose I have a different problem than most people.

My neck aches from looking up at the sky…

instead of down at my phone.