Midwesterners reckon that out here in California, we don’t know the meaning of the word “cold”. And shucks, they’re right. In nearly thirty years of living here, I’ve never dealt with a frozen pipe. I’ve hardly ever had to scrape the morning frost from my windshield. I have to travel a ways up into the mountains before I can find enough winter snow to make a snowball.
And no day would better exemplify the strange warmth of California than that day in Napa. (more…)