Having lived most of my life in North East L.A. I have come to find refuge in the hills around here. As a kid I would go up Eastlake Ave in Lincoln Heights and up into the hills to flatop to seekout lizards, snakes, centipedes, and all the other wildlife you see around these parts. Many people say that Los Angeles scarecly has seasons, but I think it is because they do not understand how the seasons present themselves here. Elsewhere you have heavy rains (which we occasionally do have), snow, or extreme cold to show that things are changing.
Here the hills tell of the season. In the winter they are just starting to turn green from the inconsistent rains. In the spring they are green and yellow. Completely covered with grass and tall wildflowers. From a distance the hills seem to gain height because the brushes grow up to 5 feet high. This is the time of year we are now in. Soon, near summer they will turn lighter and lighter, becoming kindle for the fires we see every year by the end of summer. The fall sees them turn drier and drier.
The idea that Los Angeles has no season is probably spurred on by the lack of open spaces in much of the city. But here, in North East LA there are still some hills that roam without any homes or paved roads. One only sees the trails that people still take to bypass the long trek of going around by going straight over them. These hills that roam from El Sereno, through Lincoln Heights, Highland Park, Hermon, Montecito Heights, and elsewhere have become an image of what is home to me. Forget about the Beverly Hills, it is these hills that I love.
Image stolen(borrowed?) from Chimatli.