My friends in colder climes scoff at the idea of spring in a part of the world that seems perpetually April-May, but they haven’t sat on my back patio, pants rolled above the knees to absorb vitamin D and color into lily white legs, gazing out over a lush and vibrant, albeit small, backyard. This is the green that hospitals and mental wards strive for, a tranquil, complex green that simultaneously draws my gaze and returns itself to me — not that pea green that always seems to coat institutional walls.

Somehow we’ve managed to add four trees to the five that were here when we settled in 10 years ago. Our orange tree, which took several disappointing years to grant us any fruit, is now covered with fragrant blossoms. If a strong Santa Ana wind doesn’t blow the baby oranges off again this year, we’ll have a sunny and abundant crop.

These are the days I love living in Southern California.