行走在这荒芜没有生机的山峦，感觉自己的心好像都被之感染，感叹人生的秋天会不会如此这般，从此谢幕，不再斑斓。

When people in the east or colder areas talk about the blazing autumn leaves and colorful scenes, I could only imagine its beauty in my mind.  In this sunshine state where we boast about sunny beaches, year-round warm climate, there is one thing we miss—fall color.  In the daytime of even November, under the relentless sun, temperatures still hover around 70s, occasionally at its 80s or 90s.  We don’t expect leaves to turn golden yellow in such a weather.        

However knowingly we still set out to a regional park last Sunday, to look for any surprise. Entering a hundred-year-old park, where oak trees and sycamore trees sprawlingly provide shades and canopies, we parked in the depth of the park, and started our hike on a newly open trail.  The 10 o’clock morning sun was warm and was beating down on our backs. The road ahead is partly paved and partly dirt. Not far on our right are rolling hills, brown, barren and lifeless, devoid of much greenness. By the roadsides stand the grasses, once tall and lush, now completely wilted and dead. The sun shines upon them, polishing a light sheen that accentuates the season’s bareness. In the middle of the wilderness, the dry riverbed is naked with gravels and sand. Clusters of the thorny cacti are flanked inside the fence, bearing on their tips are dark- red cactus pears. Their wrinkled bodies look so empty and sagging that they remind us of old women’s drained breasts.

The ascent to the hills is mainly of dirt road. On a certain part, the road surface collects so much dirt that stepping on it is like treading a heap of powder. If you stamp your foot, the dust will surely rise and settle on your shoes and pant cuffs. Gingerly and lightly I walked on.  Soon we reached to the top overlooking the dull fall color beneath. There was nothing very lively in this autumn park, except the distant choo choo train whistling in the air, or the muffled music from the central grassland echoing faintly. Without much to see, we did not linger but descended. Back to the park, on the east, we saw a horse farm, where dozens of horses, white and brown, were kept in smelly stables. Three young people were riding on the horsebacks, trotting around a small fenced open area.  Then we stopped by a mini park museum, inside which animals such as the mountain lion,fox, wolf, snakes, birds are decorated with taxidermy.  They are so lifelike that the sight of a snake coiling in a cave scared me. Displayed in the glass covered shelves are some historical tools native Indians used for fishing, farming and living. On the walls are some old pictures, videos and billboards of California history before 19th century. We rested on a bench, watching a cartoon movie for about 20 minutes, before heading back to our car.  On the way, we saw four peacocks, three of which are young females, strolling lethargically in the shade. The fourth is a male, standing in a tree and cleaning the feathers, its long showy tail hanging downward.  Obviously, he was not in the mood to court the young females, nor was he interested in appealing to a middle-aged woman like me who did not dress up flamboyantly.