Fall in the Land of Endless Summer

The angle of the sun at 6 o’clock has turned the dust in the air golden, and the sentimental soul hungers for the smell of burning leaves. Autumn is coming, even to this land of 1 1/2 seasons, a land where, in places, burning leaves is illegal.

Supermarkets greet customers with an Aladdin’s treasure of back-to-school supplies, even in this city where tens of thousands of children and teachers began the academic year July 5.

Department store aisles beckon with warm fuzzywear and earth tones, even in this climate that will find us bare-legged and sleeveless and sweltering well into November.

The nostalgic among us will peek inside the pencil cases, with their sharp scent of chiseled wood, the perfectly turned crayon point, the ruler and the protractor promising the unlocking of serious mysteries.

We will thumb through the “trapper keeper” for a quick update on this year’s crop of cartoon fads and decide that the Mighty Morphin Power Rangers will never top Darth Vader and Miss Piggy.

We will dig out the old letter sweater and make plans for the first home game; lucky for us so many high schools play football at night.

We will prune the impatiens and envision rust-red chrysanthemums in their place.

Yes, summer is ending. The Earth is turning ever so slightly away from the sun, as it always has, and transplants from northern climes awaken again to perhaps distant memory of what that means, adapting our response, as we adapt so much else, to the imperfect reality of autumn in L.A.