As a Midwesterner marooned in SoCal, it took me decades to accept what passes for seasons here.
January through December, all I saw was weather that was never too cold but never quite warm enough. No, of course it doesn’t snow (so what are you complaining about, asks every sane person in a northern climate), but if you plan on sitting outside for dinner, even in August, you’ll have to take your Patagonia puffer vest. That phrase “marine layer” is simply a euphemism for bone-chillingly damp.
Here’s what was served up this year: May Gray which flowed right into June Gloom; a glum July that made me cry, followed by a month of frankly AU-disGUSTing weather. Overcast and foggy every single morning. Yes, the skies would eventually clear – just in time to watch the sun set.
Thank goodness we have chickens, for they keep their own seasons and remind me to pay better attention to the nuances. In the upcoming darker winter months they will cease to lay, fluff up their feathers and chow down the cracked corn.
Come March and April, they are one the move again and Egg Season will commence with a vengeance.
Broody Season comes next, usually starring Bella,
And then Baby Chick season. Who cares if the sun comes out when you have these cuties to watch?
But it can’t all be fun and games. Lately, the sun has finally shone, but now we are in Molting Season. Nugget took it the hardest this year.
No matter how often you broom up the mess, there are feathers everywhere.
There’s no time to miss the traditional segue of the seasons when all this is going on. Next up: Acorn Season, where the oaks will shed their fruit and pelt the hens on their little noggins. I guess it makes up in entertainment value what we lack in fall color…
“California, where the spring comes in the fall and the fall comes in the summer and the summer comes in the winter and the winter never comes at all.” — Inez Haynes Irwin