The Textures of Summer

Summer near the foothills makes me count the days til Fall. Too far from the coast to feel the cool beach breezes, we're stuck with heat and smoggy haze. While I complain about sticky clothes, Summer's secrets go unnoticed.

As Kona and I jogged our ridge, I wrinkled my nose at our browning landscape. Then the more I looked, the more I noticed the layers of textures, the fine shifts of colors.
Witches hair grew over sumac. I wondered if the parasitic plant would harm it's hardy host. Kona lunged for a rabbit that zigged underneath the sumac's low branches.
Tufts of dry grass dotted our sandy fireroad and mingled beside mustard, still yellow in the early Summer.
I relaxed into a steady pace and Kona panted, pulling slightly ahead. With our easy rhythm, I let go of my brown, bleak, one dimensional season. I let the trail show a different side of Summer.

Happy Summer

I have a thing about waking up early. To keep myself in bed after I wake up is an undertaking. This morning I planned to hike our highest local peak to celebrate the solstice with Kona. When my eyes flew open at the crack of 4:40AM, my body protested. It wasn't a day for a summit run. I willed myself back to sleep for another 40 minutes and then headed to our ridge to greet Summer.

Had we been at on our high-altitude trail, I'm sure our morning would have felt more like Summer. Being much closer to sea level, we trotted through June Gloom instead of sunshine.
Overcast and misty mornings are normal during the Summer along much of the West Coast as thick marine layers push inland. Here in Southern California, overcast mornings typically arrive in May and June. We sun addicted Southlanders fondly refer to this foggy weather pattern as May Grey and June Gloom.
So while our morning hike felt particularly June, it didn't feel particularly Summer.

And I'm not about to complain about that. It won't be long before morning rays make the Summer air thick and hard to run through. I welcome overcast skies this time of year, though I'm always amazed how hot I can feel when the air is filled with mist and the sun is out of sight. 60 degrees is plenty warm to work up a sweat on our steep hills and with 150% humidity, sweat does nothing to cool you off. It wasn't long before I was wet from both the outside in and the inside out.

In the sticky morning, Kona and I took it easy. Kona tried her best to follow scents she picked up in the breeze, though I wouldn't let her wade into the foxtail-ridden grass.
Before heading home, we practiced some recalls. Kona sprinted through the mist.
Thoroughly sweaty without help from the sun, I jogged the final stretch to the car with Kona panting as she trotted by my side. And with that, we finished our first outing of the Summer.

Sunrise Sunday: Spring Edition

While we were MIA in blogville, Kona and I remained dawn-chasers. Here are some of our Spring morning views.

The days of snow on our low peaks are behind us but a mild Spring and extra rain dusted our foothills late in the season.

Rainy mornings often caught us by surprise and left us with ethereal skies.

The sun did sometimes come out. This is Southern California after all.
Kona got better at waiting on her silly human's sky gazing.
A special sunrise dedication to all the fathers out there today!

We're Ba-ack!

Spring is slow to relinquish to Summer this year but our high mountain trails have finally cleared.
Above our canyon trail, nearby peaks clung to melting snow-fields.
Kona, without need for her head towards the sky, reminded me of the important things, like spotting chipmunks.
And watching chipmunks.
And going to distance to meet chipmunks.
And that's why, my friends, that no matter how rocky the path, no matter how far the summit, everyone needs a Kona Dog.
Happy final days of Spring to all of our blogging buddies.