Los Angeles Has Seasons
And I will fight anybody who tries to say otherwise.
People say Los Angeles doesn’t have seasons, but they’re wrong. Many parts of the world have seasonal patterns that differ from what we see in places like the North East. Thailand, for example, has three seasons: hot, rainy, and cold. Granted, cold season rarely drops below 70F degrees, but coming from 98F degrees with 98% humidity folks are excited to whip out their cozy sweaters at the first opportunity.
LA’s seasons are different. I haven’t been here long enough to define them with confidence, but after a hot summer, we’re in a mild fall. 80F degree days turn into 60F degree nights which feel chilly in comparison. Deciduous trees are shedding and I still get to experience the joy of going out of my way to stomp on an especially crunchy leaf. Trees know it’s time to shed their leaves less from temperature changes and more due to increased darkness, earlier sunsets communicate to plants and animals (including humans) “hey, days are getting shorter. Winter is coming: time to prepare for the restful days ahead.”
In my writing class I was asked to describe how I notice seasons changing without the obvious indicators: less light, lower temperatures, falling leaves. Living in LA, my mind immediately went to coyotes. The idea of seeing a coyote in the middle of a city street in a place like New York is unheard of; if it were to happen it would make the news, Twitter would blow up, the memes would be hilarious. In LA coyotes run rampant, stalking the city streets in search of their next meal. Nobody bats an eye.
As nights get longer and temperatures drop, I notice more coyote sightings. Perhaps the summer came with a bounty of food so they had less reason to ditch the safety of their dens, or maybe they tend to be out at night so longer nights increase my chances of encountering one. Either way, they stalk the city streets, hungry. Like a large dog off leash, they prance down the sidewalk. Though unlike dogs we keep as pets, coyotes run in the opposite direction when encountering a human. They do have a remarkable ability to get our pet dogs to chase them, an opportunity to lure them into their lair for a feast shared with friends.
Though five times his size, George will lunge after a coyote, ready to bite, chase, or play. I cannot decode their language and it terrifies me to imagine what could happen, yet part of me is impressed with their cunning nature, how they scheme to trick their prey. It is bizarre to be so close to a predator in such a real way while living in a city.
Beyond coyotes, every fall, like clockwork, I lock in. An energetic spirit overtakes me, one that wants me to get my shit together. Perhaps my rhythms will forever follow the back to school pattern, but as soon as September hits I immediately begin craving a trip to Staples for brand new notebooks and gel pens. I’ve been referring to this month as “Locktober”; I’m getting my shit together. In the midst of Autumn, I understand I, just like the coyotes and the trees, am preparing for rest. Shorter days means less sunlight means less energy to do so much all the time. Winter is coming, and I’m ready to see what that means in a place like LA.