Commentary: I grew up watching the hills burn. Now L.A.'s fires just seem cruel
This was always the best time of year: hot in the day but without sunburn or sweat, chilly at night with clean skies and bright stars. Autumn was always the best.
Except for the wind, friends used to say. But no - especially the wind. The powerful Santa Anas. Warm and yet cold. Electric. Strong.
Except for the fire, they would say, but again - no. The fire was all part of it. Wild, frightening, destroying the daily routine, putting everyone on edge, but I knew I was safe. My parents would
