If One Must Choose, In All The Fragrant
California Year The Best Month Is June, For Then The Air Is Softest, And
A Touch Of Summer's Gold Overlies The Green Of Winter.
But October, when
the first swift rains
"Dash the whole long slope with color,"
and leave the clean-washed atmosphere so absolutely transparent that
even distance is no longer blue, has a charm not less alluring.
So far as man is concerned, the one essential fact is that he is never
the climate's slave; he is never beleaguered by the powers of the air.
Winter and summer alike call him out of doors. In summer he is not
languid, for the air is never sultry. In most regions he is seldom hot,
for in the shade or after nightfall the dry air is always cool. When it
rains the air may be chilly, in doors or out, but it is never cold
enough to make the remorseless base-burner a welcome alternative. The
habit of roasting one's self all winter long is unknown in California.
The old Californian seldom built a fire for warmth's sake. When he was
cold in the house he went out of doors to get warm. The house was a
place for storing food and keeping one's belongings from the wet. To
hide in it from the weather is to abuse the normal function.
The climate of California is especially kind to childhood and old age.
Men live longer there, and, if unwasted by dissipation, strength of body
is better conserved.
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