Another winter ends. With it go promises of cloudy, windswept days; cleansing, longed-for rains; and somber, dramatic days of dark clouds and white-capped mountains to the north—most of which never came. In fact, a number of years have passed since southern California enjoyed a real winter. Maybe, they have visited us their final time.
Instead, this was the winter of promised El Niño rains that never came.
Tomorrow, I’ll return from spring break to days that will get hotter and hotter and longer and longer. Suppers will no longer be in the evening, where they belong. And with the heat will come the empty, blue-gray that seems an enduring fixture of the Los Angeles sky—not a cloud to give respite or break up the monotony of the haze.
These skies reflect the long, featureless days of the summer months.
How far away October seems, now.