There are those who claim that Southern California has no seasons.

People who say that generally live in places where they have to shovel snow. 

The funny thing is, there are plenty of places in Southern California where you – yes! – have to shovel snow, at least occasionally.

But it’s true.  Here along the coast, snow doesn’t happen.  Frost and ice sometimes do – I remember a few winters ago when we had sub-freezing temperatures overnight for several days.  I lost a few plants, and I distinctly remember my surprise when I was out running early in the morning.  There was ice on the sidewalk - something I hadn’t had to deal with since I moved here in 1998!

But we have distinct seasons, even though we don’t get slapped in the face with them quite the way those of you who live in areas where you have SEASONS – and have to shovel snow – do.

Right now, for instance, is Fire Season.  Two years ago, the entire county of San Diego was on fire.  Then, I had packed my car and was ready to catch the cats and leave.  The smoke outside was thick as a New England pea-souper fog.

This year, I spent a day up on Palomar Mountain a few weekends ago.  The firestorms had roared through Palomar, and it was fascinating to see the burn patterns still there two years later.  Some areas were untouched.  In some places, living trees had six-foot-high burn marks on one side.  And in other places, the trees had literally burned from the inside out, like chimneys.  The outside surface of the trees appeared untouched, but the insides were hollow, charred shells.

I’m glad to say that the 400-year-old incense cedar, and some other venerable trees, were untouched.

In any event, Fire Season is just one aspect of this time of year.

We’re coming up on what should be our rainy season.  (Hold that in your hearts, folks.  We’re praying for an El Nino year this year – rain would be a most excellent thing.)

This is our planting season.  And it’s also the time of year when many plants are setting buds.

The acacias are all putting out their wispy flower stems, which will burst into explosions of brilliant yellow in a few months.  The jade trees in pots on my patio are setting their buds.  The camellia buds are swelling. 

And the ridiculous tree in my front yard, which is essentially a weed and I’ve no idea what it is, is also setting its buds.  The bees will go bonkers over those blossoms in a few months – and then there will be gazillions of peppercorn-sized seeds, which will drop down my neck when I mow the lawn next spring.  (No, it’s not a pepper tree.)

On the other side of the world, it actually is spring.  Here, it’s fall; the days are getting darker, and I’m thinking about soups and stews instead of salads and grilling.  But though my garden is in fall mode in some ways – the fruit trees are dropping their leaves – in other ways, for this transplanted Easterner, it almost feels like spring.

We do have seasons.  You just have to pay attention.