When you think L.A., you think sunshine, right?  After all, in every movie you’ve ever seen, when the protagonists go to L.A., there will be three establishing shots: the Hollywood sign, a girl in a bikini, and a palm tree.  All of Los Angeles is located at the beach, or maybe in a convertible.

In truth, those of us lucky/intelligent enough to live on the west side get to experience the annual phenomenon of June gloom.  It’s basically a tendency for the ocean to produce a lot of mist and clouds, such that the mile or so closest to the water is grey and gloomy, even though it might be sunny and bright in L.A. proper and parts east.  It’s been starting in recently, and after a couple of mini heat waves the last couple of weekends, I welcome it gladly.

I was leaving a student’s house Wednesday night and I was struck by a sensation of comfort.  For the briefest flash, I felt as if I belonged here, and I had no idea why.  The house was only a few blocks from the beach, so I knew the cool temperature had something to do with it, but what else?  Then it hit me: wood smoke.  Someone had a fire going, and for that instant, cedar warming someone’s home transported me.

Then I got into the L.A traffic.  The sensation went away quickly.

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