A major complaint folks have about living in Southern California is the lack of seasons. It’s definitely winter here -December 2nd – but you would never know if you took a stroll through my garden. Roses, gardenias and daisies are abloom, and the although the apricot tree leaves have changed color and are dropping like a sunshine snowfall, the high today was 79 degrees, definitely short sleeve & flip - flop weather.
Having lived here for 45 years I have learned to recognize the changing seasons, not by the temperature, but by the fruit selection at Trader Jo’s. Good-by juicy peaches and hello tart apples. Growing up in Jersey I have wonderful memories of winter and the way it’s supposed to be: snowmen, hot chocolate, and wool clothes faintly smelling of sickly-sweet moth balls.
I need my winter. So, despite the fact that I can wear my Old Navy cotton pj’s all year long, I have a long standing tradition of replacing my summer pj’s with my flannel pj’s. Only then can I say that winter has arrived.
Notice the rose on top of the pile of flannels? Just picked that from my garden.