global warnming

A sign of things to come, perhaps...





In the park it’s like early summer: kids play barefoot on the grass under a bright blue sky while adults gulp from plastic bottles of water and pretend to watch; couples lie on blankets under patches of shade and pretend they’re alone; the grandest array of SUVs, windows and sunroofs open, parade painstakingly slowly on the freeways toward the beach. The Santa Ana winds carry cherry blossom flowers: sprinkling them over the park, speckling the streets and lawns, the dog’s fur, my hair.

It is hot: over 90 degrees this afternoon and the dog is panting, ducking under every piece of shade she can catch. Even those LA River bunnies, plump now, after 6 months of feeding, are cowering in the shade under the bridge; the coyotes haven’t gotten them yet.

It is dry: the desert winds have brought red flag warnings in hills, closing the park where often we mountain bike ride on Sundays just like these.

It is sunny: so sunny that my sunscreen-less shoulders and face turn pinkish red even though we’ve only been out for half an hour.

What it is NOT is spring. Not yet. (10 more days and counting…)