The three weeks in December when the Valley impersonates New England are when I am most grateful to be here…as though I arrived by wisdom rather than necessity.
Then there are the oranges, our unique backyard superpower most unlike Vermont. A week ago they were too tart, in another month they will slip into sweetness. For now they are just right but we can only eat six a day before our bellies distend like Bilbo Baggins so we drop them off at the neighbor’s house by the bagful. We are profligate. We are having it both ways. A Mediterranean clime while God paints the leaves.