New Year’s Eve found me downtown for the annual chili pepper drop, Benson’s quirky answer to Times Square. The pepper shifts colors all night long, and the big question is always the same: Will it land red or green? This year, it dropped green—a fitting farewell to New Mexico and a bright welcome to 2026.
New Year’s Day was quieter. I watched the Rose Parade, smiled at the clean slate of a new year, and began preparing for the next leg of my journey: returning to Benson, Arizona, a place that has slowly become one of my winter touchstones.
Coming “Home” to Benson
Benson was my winter home base — close enough to Tucson for errands, and just a short drive from two of my favorite historic towns: Tombstone and Bisbee.
If you missed those stories from last year, you can read them here:
• Tombstone: [link]
• Bisbee: [link]”
I arrived back in Benson at the very beginning of 2026, and in a way, it felt like coming home. The faces were familiar. I knew my way around both the town and the RV park. And I slipped easily back into the rhythm of life there.
My social anchor became water aerobics every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. The pool wasn’t big enough for multiple lap swimmers, but I squeezed in a few laps when I could. Mostly, I enjoyed the movement, the laughter, and the sense of belonging that comes from seeing the same people three times a week.
Benson is a place where the desert shows off in quiet ways. I don’t know the official cactus blooming schedule, but I caught several varieties in bloom—small bursts of color against the muted winter palette. I spent many evenings chasing the full moon, trying to capture it nestled in the crook of a cactus. I didn’t love the photos as much as last year’s, but the chase itself was worth it.
And the skies—oh, the skies. Benson has some of the most dramatic winter sunsets I’ve ever seen. Over several nights, I tried to capture the way the sunlight played in the clouds against the dark silhouettes of the mountains. Some nights were fiery. Some were soft. All were beautiful.
A Day Trip to Tombstone
One afternoon, I drove down to Tombstone, a place that leans fully into its own legend. The wooden boardwalks, the costumed actors, the staged shootouts at the OK Corral—it’s touristy, yes, but in a way that’s charming rather than kitschy. For most of us, Tombstone existed only in old TV shows and Western movies. Seeing it in person, with the dust and the heat and the sound of boots on wood, gives it a texture that screens can’t capture.
I wandered the streets, watched a reenactment or two, and enjoyed the simple pleasure of being in a place that knows exactly what it is and embraces it.
Two Months at San Pedro RV Park
My trailer spent two full months at San Pedro RV Park. It was a peaceful base—quiet, friendly, and familiar. But in the middle of my stay, I had to take a four‑day hiatus. I’d been called back to Tennessee to testify in a development case from my time in municipal government.
I wasn’t thrilled about being summoned back, but I used the opportunity to see old friends. In the end, the city won the case. Whether it was worth it for the plaintiff or defendant, I can’t say—but I felt the outcome was right.
When I returned to Benson, spring was beginning to stir. The Palo Verde trees were blooming, painting the desert in soft green. And with that beauty came the downside: allergies. The pollen count skyrocketed, and I found myself spending more and more time indoors, hacking and coughing whenever I ventured outside. It’s a cruel irony that some of the most beautiful desert days are also the hardest on my lungs.
The Quiet Gifts of Winter
Despite the allergies, winter in Benson gave me exactly what I needed:
- time to breathe
- time to settle
- time to reconnect with familiar faces
- time to enjoy the desert at its gentlest
There’s something grounding about returning to a place you’ve been before. You notice different things. You appreciate the familiar. You settle into the rhythm more quickly. Benson has become that kind of place for me—a winter home base that offers both comfort and beauty.
Benson is the only place I’ve ever been where the number of RV spots seems to go toe‑to‑toe with the number of actual houses. Between the big resorts, the long‑term parks, and the “blink and you’ll miss it” clusters of hookups tucked behind mesquite trees, this town has nearly as many places to park a rig as it does front porches. It explains why the grocery store parking lot always has a fifth wheel in it and why half the people you meet are “just here for the winter,” even if they’ve been saying that since 2004.
Looking Ahead
By the end of February, I could feel the season shifting. The days were warming. The desert was waking up. And I was getting ready to move north—to Phoenix, to Prescott Valley, and eventually into the wild, beautiful chaos that spring had in store.
But before all that, Benson gave me a soft landing into 2026.
A place to reset.
A place to breathe.
A place that feels, in its own quiet way, like home.
