It is, by every measure, summer in Los Angeles. Over the last weekend, we had triple digit temperatures. More and more we are reduced in the metropolis to two seasons: summer and a slightly cooler version of summer. Cold weather, at least the kind found in California, really only seemed to visit for a week in December. Rain? A few drops does not end the drought. Fire season has begun, and if the prognosticators are to be believed, this year will mature into red dawns and ashy skies. The coming inferno could be cataclysmic and incredibly destructive by late-summer-into-fall.
For all those still trying to deny global warming, good luck with that.
The beaches are already beginning to fill up, corn-on-the-cob and early stone fruits are coming to market. The grills and barbecues stand at the ready.
I stole a few moments last week to walk the hills above Santa Monica to snap some photos of the hardest working crews plying their trade in the shadows and light: the bees.
Yes, summer’s here.