The Fairest of the Seasons

Nov 2nd, 2012 by Nicholas Pell in Personal

It’s finally gotten to me, like they all said it would. Los Angeles doesn’t really have seasons. It has the sunny time and the time when it’s less sunny. While this doesn’t have me running for Providence or Portland, it does have me missing the days of musty smells and leaves crunching beneath my feet.

People come from hundreds of miles around to look at leaves in New England for a reason: They’re gorgeous. The sight and smell of dying leaves is a deeply ingrained trigger going back to some of my earliest days. I’m not a New England native, but I spent the bulk of my life between 2 and 26 there. Dead, crispy leaves on the ground that crunch underneath the feet bring me back to days of chucking a baseball against a fence or tromping through the forest to share a sneaked fag with friends.

If there’s a more perfect place than Western Massachusetts in October, I haven’t found it. Some of my best memories take place riding my bike in Northampton’s crisp fall air, maybe tripping my nuts off on locally grown mushrooms, maybe not. The purples and oranges of the sky beat anything Los Angeles has on offer any time of year — and this is coming from a guy who thinks that smog is pretty.

Unfortunately, at least in this case, I relocated to Los Angeles two years ago. As the old saying says, you can’t go home again. For better or for worse I have planted my stakes here. While it’s mostly been “for better,” the weather is one place where it’s frequently “for worse.”

Fall in Los Angeles means summer, for the most part. It was 90 degrees out almost until the end of October and yes, it’s irritating. I’m truly sorry that the Northeast just had 16 feet of rain dumped on it, but that doesn’t change the fact that a 90-degree day in October seriously harshes my mellow.

Now what counts for winter in the City of Angels is rolling in. This means overcast skies until some time in the early afternoon until the sun burns them off. After this, we enjoy a deceptive sunshine that belies the frigid 50-degree weather outside.

Did I mention that it’s supposed to get back up to 90 on Monday?

I raise a pint of hard cider to the weather of New England. One day I’ll be wealthy enough to spend my falls there, my friends, but today is not that day.

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