Houston, We Have Seasons!

When I moved to Los Angeles, everyone, including the people that lived here (and the ever-reliable anonymous people on the internet) told me that I would miss the seasons. I agreed, because while winter is one of the most awful things I've ever experienced (I lead a charmed life, I know), I do enjoy the crispness of a fall day and the freshness of a spring morning. September came, and then October, and all of my midwest Facebook friends started posting photos and status updates about how wonderful it was to see leaves falling and drink hot cocoa on a chilly evening. I resigned myself to the lack of color and chill, and started preparing myself for the winter days when I would rejoice openly about how it was seventy and sunny while said Facebook friends couldn't go outside without getting frostbite. Then November came, and something unexpected happened: leaves began to change colors.




Autumn Exists!


I didn't even notice it at first, because I wasn't looking for it, and I think my brain is still hardwired to expect the colors to change every year. But then more trees started to turn, and I noticed the reds, yellows, and oranges dotting each street I drove down and mixing with the greens and browns that were visible from the many overlooks on the hills that I've found myself frequenting this past month. As the weeks went on, the colors got brighter and brighter, and I told myself I was going to go out and take pictures - and then I didn't. Instead, I went this week, as the colors were beginning to fade and the trees started to look a bit scraggly. Curse you, procrastination!





I love all of the different parts of this photo: the palm trees, the blue sky, the colorful leaves, and the mountains in the background. 


One thing I've noticed about the leaves turning in LA is that unlike Minnesota, where entire sidewalks and blocks are blanketed with falling leaves, here it looks as though a magical season fairy has bestowed autumn upon a few special yards or sections of sidewalk every couple of blocks or so. You will be driving along the road and seeing greengreengreen until all of a sudden, out of the corner of your eye, you will see a flash of red, and spot something falling to the ground. You'll turn your head to look and discover a neat little square or circle of color in the middle of a green lawn or covering thirty feet of concrete. At first, it reminded me of the autumn tree in The Nightmare Before Christmas - just a lone tree in the middle of the forest with leaves falling from it - and then I looked it up and realized that such a tree doesn't actually exist in that movie. Memory fail. So I'm not sure which movie (or perhaps book) I'm remembering, but you get the picture. And just in case you don't, here's what I mean:






Right? Two lawns, two seasons.








And then across the street, palm trees silhouetted by the sun.






I love LA.

In other news: the Santa Anas (incredibly strong autumn winds) are blowing their little hearts out right now; our windows are rattling and the trees shaking outside sound like a tornado is about to rip through our apartment building. Gusts of up to 80mph are expected, and we're under some kind of brushfire watch/warning through Friday. Toto, we ain't in Minnesota any more.

My parents and brother came to visit for Thanksgiving, and I turned into Tourist Guide Supreme; they didn't get a moment's rest, except to guzzle down Thanksgiving dinner before I made them hop in the car and drive to the top of a hill to look at the city at night. Photos to come, though it may take awhile, because I took waaaay too many.

Remember that whole happiness project I said I was going to do? This time I'm actually going to do it, starting January 1. More to come.

A couple of things I'm diggin':

:: This has been making the rounds on Facebook, but if ever someone needed to be shown a video of twenty-five different ways to wear a scarf, it would be me.

:: Tigger got swagger. 'Nuff said.

And now, Entourage time. Happy hump day!


Colorful autumn tree; pretty blooming tree.