This morning was grey and drizzly and absolutely magnificent. This might be considered blasphemous, but as a Southern Californian sometimes I get tired of the sunshine. Yeah, I said that. Maybe it’s a case of the grass-is-always-greener syndrome. (It literally is because we’re always in a drought.) But I relish the few days of the year when skies are gloomy or the rain pours down.
When I was a kid I loved the poem “Fog” by Carl Sandburg. Was it because it was so mysterious, so rare?
It’s already November, and the high today was 72 degrees and it’s going to get into the 80s by the end of the week! This is not fall. This is not autumn. This is endless summer. Hmmm…this sounds like I might be bragging. I’ll stop.
Of course when it dips below 60 degrees, I’ll panic like all other Los Angelenos.
Warning: it get’s a little PG/PG-13 at the end of this clip.
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