A Trip to the Land of Oz...and My Frosty Return

On Thursday afternoon, while it was still temperate here on the Northcoast, I hopped a plane for a brief visit to Sunny California.

Yes, the moniker "Sunny California" obviously is overused, but having spent four days there and witnessing just as many days of clear blue sky and sparkling, shining sun, I have to agree that it's an apt description. Regard this lovely photo of downtown Santa Barbara on Friday around noontime. Ahhh...palm trees. This picture simply screams, "Sunny California!" There's no way around it.

Or what about this picture of Ventura (I'm now in love with the place!) on Saturday afternoon, taken high up in the hills overlooking the city? Scenic view. Blue skies. Wave-filled ocean. Sigh. It got even better down on Ventura Beach as sunset crept upon the ocean and the miles and miles of sand.

Pretty much like paradise on earth, I must say. I sat down on a bench right here at this spot and watched surfers take on some nice-sized waves, as the sun set upon them, trailing its golden rays across the sea and the sky. And I didn't want to move from my perch because the sight before me was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen in my life. And it moved me to see such beauty, particularly something so natural and untouched.

The amazing...and I mean AMAZING...weather continued Sunday. High 70s, breezy, sunny. Blue skies framing the hills. Again, I stood outside, my face to the sun and soaked it all in. I needed to...I was returning home to C-town the next day, and rumor had it was snowing.

My suspicions were confirmed when my lifelong friend, Mary, sent me a picture of her snow-covered, suburban Cleveland yard to my phone that morning in retaliation for all of the gorgeous SoCal pics I sent her over the weekend. (Yes...I was gloating. I couldn't help it. I was so taken with how beautiful the days were where I was!)

I made a few calls on the way to the airport. Yep. Snow. Damn! I stewed about it during my flight, knowing I was going to have to face the inevitable in a few hours. I stepped out of the plane that evening onto the jetway and, quite possibly, gasped out loud as a rude burst of icy air hit me. I knew it was coming, but still I wasn't prepared for it. I got home, bundled up in layers and went to sleep under my warm covers. I awoke to more snow and encountered this scene on my way to the office. You should be able to see the downtown skyline from this vantage point. But you can't. All you can see is fog and snow and cars creeping along the shoreway into the city. I almost felt guilty for gloating. But not quite. Instead I felt slightly wistful knowing what I had left behind yesterday when I stepped onto that plane at LAX.