Santa Ana evening
Last night I left work around 7:15, stepping out into deep twilight in the alley between my office and the buildings on Third Street Promenade. We're just a couple of blocks from the ocean, so it's always cooler here than further inland; in the fall, it usually gets pretty brisk out as the sun sets and the onshore breeze blows the fog in. So as I step out the door heading homeward, I'm always unconsciously bracing myself for that first touch of cold, damp air.
Not last night. It was around 80 degrees outside. There was a breeze, but it kept shifting direction; it felt like a weak Santa Ana, dry and silky on the skin. I caught the bus back to Westwood, around five miles inland, and it was even warmer there as I walked home in the velvety darkness, leaves rustling in little whirlwinds and chaotic rushes of air.
Santa Ana weather always makes me feel energetic and on edge, somewhere between anxious and exhilirated. It was leaning toward exhilirated last night. Apparently my cat Wafer felt it too; he came in with me just long enough to get fed, then rocketed back to the front door, begging to be let back out into the windy darkness filled with the chirping of heat-loving crickets and the echoed barking of distant dogs.
I've felt very much like an animal lately. Not in the sense of losing my humanity, but of gaining an appreciation for the meat and bone I'm made of, and of how much like all the other animals on the planet we humans are. This morning, on the way to work, i was waiting to cross busy Westwood Boulevard with a dozen other people. The crosswalk signal was about to change for us when we all heard a siren approaching. It was still out of sight but getting louder when our signal changed. There was a beautiful moment of nonverbal tribal consensus as we all looked at each other, looked toward the apparent source of the sound, shifted toward the street, hesitated, and then all at the same instant concluded that the siren had stopped getting closer, had clearly turned on another street; and we all began moving in unison.
I'm sure that a Neolithic hunting band hearing a branch crack in the forest would have looked just the same. Or a band of wolves catching an unfamiliar scent on the breeze. And that is an intensely wonderful realization.
Not last night. It was around 80 degrees outside. There was a breeze, but it kept shifting direction; it felt like a weak Santa Ana, dry and silky on the skin. I caught the bus back to Westwood, around five miles inland, and it was even warmer there as I walked home in the velvety darkness, leaves rustling in little whirlwinds and chaotic rushes of air.
Santa Ana weather always makes me feel energetic and on edge, somewhere between anxious and exhilirated. It was leaning toward exhilirated last night. Apparently my cat Wafer felt it too; he came in with me just long enough to get fed, then rocketed back to the front door, begging to be let back out into the windy darkness filled with the chirping of heat-loving crickets and the echoed barking of distant dogs.
I've felt very much like an animal lately. Not in the sense of losing my humanity, but of gaining an appreciation for the meat and bone I'm made of, and of how much like all the other animals on the planet we humans are. This morning, on the way to work, i was waiting to cross busy Westwood Boulevard with a dozen other people. The crosswalk signal was about to change for us when we all heard a siren approaching. It was still out of sight but getting louder when our signal changed. There was a beautiful moment of nonverbal tribal consensus as we all looked at each other, looked toward the apparent source of the sound, shifted toward the street, hesitated, and then all at the same instant concluded that the siren had stopped getting closer, had clearly turned on another street; and we all began moving in unison.
I'm sure that a Neolithic hunting band hearing a branch crack in the forest would have looked just the same. Or a band of wolves catching an unfamiliar scent on the breeze. And that is an intensely wonderful realization.