I found this post gathering digital dust in my drafts file, having composed it sometime last winter. Since this is the time of year I grumble about triple digit temperatures, it was refreshing to read the following:
This is the time of year I brag about Southern California weather in equal proportion to how much I complain about it in the summertime. January and February are the halcyon days of sunshine, cool temperatures, and green hills. Optimistic nectarine trees burst into blossom and wild flowers rush to spread their offspring before the scorching June sun withers them.
Mill Creek, once a perennial flow, now intermittently gurgles through rock-strewn channels carved by previous torrents, and lingers in clear pools to the delight of our thirsty dogs.
Friday, Sally was recovering from a bout of Covid and wanted to do something of low intensity, so we loaded bikes and dogs into our cars and drove to the upper wash trails. In the uphill direction, the dogs bound ahead, following their noses and giving happy but futile chase to birds that take flight. When the trail turns downhill, they run ahead until they hear the zzzzzzt of our coasting hubs on their tails and pull over to let us pass. The long-legged ones (Sadie and Bella, Sally’s dog) lope easily behind, while the chunkier Molly and Zena (also Sally’s dog) bring up the rear, ears flapping happily.
By Saturday, Sally was feeling stronger so we decided to hike up Morton Peak Trail again. This trail warrants repetition as it has many lovely attributes, despite there being no water. It affords several panoramic views of the valley below, and after climbing roughly four miles, the trail rounds the ridge to provide a breathtaking view of Mill Creek canyon.
By the end of the day, we humans had traveled about 13 miles and the dogs probably twice that.