Yesterday a blue-eyed storm blew through Los Angeles. The wind had been out of the desert for some days, calm and a bit warm, and then Tuesday morning we were buffeted. It got cold, for Los Angeles, and the wind reached 30 miles an hour at times.

The wind stripped dead fronds from all the streetside palms. They formed drifts at the curbs. Piles of tire-shredded mulch built up between the lanes.

A few nights ago I ran the same route, saw Orion and Canis promenading across the sky, saw a bright Geminid meteor outshine the smoggy night. A barn owl screamed at me as I ran, block after block. The nest in palms, come out to hunt the rats and squirrels.

Tonight it was still cold, for Los Angeles. I ran anyway. Today the air was filthy, and reaffirmed my desire to leave before the next year is out, but tonight was clear: a dozen stars glinted feebly above the sodium vapor lamps. I ran headed for Rigel, for Sirius bright in the south, then south of Santa Monica Boulevard I turned west.

A moon one day shy of first quarter was setting, orange-tinted, at the end of the street. I ran toward that for a while, through piles of spent and shattered palm fronds.