I felt it.
Yesterday I felt the summer snap, and open to its descent. The second rose bloom is blowsy now, and the insects full of feast.
Anyone who thinks we don’t have weather in California just doesn’t feel light. A lifetime here and you come to understand summer as, mythically perhaps, the Inuit do snow. So many variants.
February summer – when we’ll have a hot week arriving it seems from nowhere. May – you wake up one morning to find sun on your winter-shaded front step and feel warmth in anticipation. June – you remember why we pay such absurd sums for ordinary real estate. Hey, not everything’s poetic.
And then July 4th. No Californian worth their salt would want that weekend to pass without spending time near water – a lake, the sea, or a swimming pool. We ate lunch at my father’s,
where my nephew AKA The Cherub was in attendance.
And the evening sitting in two fold-up chairs, in my driveway, watching light pass through the neighbor’s tree to the horizon.
Yes. the family fortune has faded but yesterday I minded not one whit. I imagined the garage door behind us an RV, and the cul-de-sac ahead a mountain vista. The light and the audacity of the 18-foot high oleander almost made me believe it true.
I hope as many Americans among you as possible had a 4-day weekend, and that the entire world has enjoyed, or will very shortly, their Saturday.
Images mine, except The Cherub, taken by my stepmother the photographer.