San Francisco has amazing weather, people always say. That’s true, but sometimes when I look back in December and wonder, where did the year go? I would say to a friend remember when we did this in the spring? And they would say, was that spring? I thought it was summer. Actually, maybe it was last fall?
Time passes by more indistinguishably, when the weather is always mild.
Last week it snowed again. On the day when temperature hit 17 degrees, our heater stopped working, and for a second I thought nothing could be worse. It turned out to be no big deal, I spent the day with my door closed and the space heater on, and jumped in to a bed prewarmed by an electric blanket. The next day the electrician came over to fix it, and the house was back to a nice 68 degrees again.
Not that it ever got colder than 50 degrees inside anyway.
A few days later the temperature is back in the 60s. That’s Texas weather for you. Unpredictable, but generally on the warm side. It does get very hot in the summer, but I don’t mind the heat so much.
I digress. What I actually wanted to talk about was that year I spent in Japan, 15 years ago. Wow, I can’t believe it’s been 15 years already. The small town I lived in was on the coast too, but it did not get the mild bay weather San Francisco enjoyed. Instead, every season showed up in its full glory. There was this road I took every day to work, and I remember watching the full lush greenness of the trees slowly mature into various shades of warmness, then little by little wither away, surrounding the trunks that once gave them life. Then came a cold winter, where the branches hid underneath a thick layer of snow, which blended into the vastness of white that extends further and further. I didn’t pay too much attention trees then because I was always trying to get home faster, but one day I noticed a tiny pale green bud on one of the branches, and realized I no longer needed to rush because the sun was now warm. The cherry blossoms came next, and as promised they blossomed brilliantly and faded just as quickly. I remember wanting to bring my camera to get a picture of the cherry blossom rain, but before I could, the rain had stopped, and the trees put on a lush green coat. It was summer again.
That was the only year I really felt the changing of the season. Perhaps it had as much to do with my one year contract as the location. Because I knew I would only experience each season once, I treasured them much more.
When I saw this picture of these two leaves, hanging on to the last few days of summer, they reminded me of the cherry blossom rain I never got to capture, and made me smile. Sometimes memories don’t need to be captured in their exactness, as long as something can bring them back.
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