it is always a safe subject.
it rarely stirs up passionate debate unless, of course, you’re a meteorologist.
the tv weathermen/women (those of the tight pencil skirts and plunging necklines, if the weather’s not interesting at least it can be provocative, no?) try so hard to make it something it’s not: exciting.
but there is an exquisite beauty to its sameness nonetheless, what with the occasional cloud floating by, the subtle changes of color of the sky/sea/surf/sand/mountains/faux tuscan architecture, all pink stucco and red tile roofs, iron gates and eucalyptus trees as the morning passes its mid-point and the afternoon sun warms your back, the shadows lengthen and gather, their dark, harsh edges fading with the sunset.