Life under the dome.

As someone who grew up in a region where the seasons are clearly delineated by changes in temperature and precipitation, I still find the winters of Southern California to be eerie and strange. Not that it’s truly winter yet: based on the trees in the neighborhood, it is barely even fall. And as far as the citrus trees are concerned, it’s fruitin’ season. Still, I always get this feeling in the late fall as if the city of Los Angeles made some deal with the weather gods that winter would consist of six months of September. (If this is the case, then Chicago made a similar deal to have six months of March instead of spring.)

At any rate, it’s heading into winter now. We’ve finally turned on the heat and gotten out the comforter for the bed. It’s light when I walk out the door in the morning, but dark long before I head home at night. I occasionally resort to wearing my hair down as a way to keep warm. We finally gritted our teeth and took a Christmas picture. (Does anybody actually enjoy taking Christmas pictures? Like, actually get a kick out of it? Or is it a yearly ordeal like getting a smog check or going to the dentist: you do it because that’s how life works?) 

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~ by Gwydhar Gebien on November 14, 2017.

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