September 14, 2010
I can see the appeal of Southern California. Really, I can. All that sunshine, an endless growing season, the proximity of mountains and sea, desert and lakes. Plus, at least in the L.A. region, there are lots of ace cultural benefits -- music, museums, arts, vintage and thrift shopping, cool people, great food... I'm sure you get used to the traffic, and if your car actually works properly and doesn't have the heater permanently on, a good playlist on the mP3 can probably make an hour long commute a fun time to enjoy some car singing (my fave kind).
Me, though, I like seasons. Summer is great -- popsicles, sundresses, sandals, street tacos, farmers markets -- but summer should also come to an end. You can't appreciate the thrill of the first sundress of the season, that first toe-wriggling day of flip flops, the first drippy popsicle on the porch if you can do it any day of the year. Or if it has been summer since January, when you moved to California. It loses its magic, and just becomes routine. I'm sure some of you would argue that if that is routine, screw the rest. But I still crave seasons. Summer should give way to autumn (the absolute best season) the season of roasted root vegetables mixed with the last sweet fruits of summer, of tights and knee socks (and thigh socks) with boots, of scarves and hats and blazers, of pumpkin spice lattes and salted caramel hot chocolates to warm nipped fingers after a morning run in the crisp, fragrant fall air.
And then should come winter, wrapped in layers and warm blankets, belly full of rich soups and casseroles and baked goods. And then spring can bring green buds and flower shoots, rains and puddle jumping, the first tentative bare legs (which are almost always too early and regrettable -- and not just for the paleness of skin), and that absolutely perfect first crocus, daffodil or violet. But right now, I'm just ready for fall. Give me a bouquet of freshly sharpened pencils, my best knee high boots, a silky scarf with my tweed blazer, and ripe pumpkin. I'm over this endless summer.