You people in L.A. don't know what you're missing.

Tonight is a gorgeous night, temperature-wise, and it's always this first or second great night that makes me appreciate seasons.

You can not have the warmth of April without the cutting wind of February.

You can not appreciate the relief of September without the sun blisters of June.

When that first snow starts to fall in December, remember the burnt grass of August.

When that last snow falls in March, imagine the perfection of May.

And when January's 31 days of 4:30 sunsets drive you to drink, remember the 31 days in July where it never gets dark.

When it's February and November, notice the scarves and big coats and the bulky sweaters worn by the gals in the street, and kick your mind to picture the floral skirts and lack of sleeves that are rampant from Spring until Fall.

Welcome back, ladies of the sidewalk. Your skin looks nice. Have you been exfoliating?

So what I'm saying to you people in L.A. is that your perfect weather makes you forget what it's like to notice things. You shouldn't be living there. You should have only visited for two weeks. Come home now.