The thing about living out here in San Diego is that the weather is, simply perfect. I just asked Claude where the best place to live in the United States is in terms of comfort. Claude went through the preference Q&A needed to answer that sort of question, asking me about what sort of temperature I preferred (mild 60’s-70’s rather than warm 70’s-80’s) and what I wanted to avoid the most (humidity rather than cold/snow) as well as what sort of topography I preferred in my surroundings. These were certainly somewhat self-selecting characteristics, but the questions were actually general enough that it could have described many different places. These outcomes created what Claude called a definitive ranking of my preferred locales. The regional certainty is that I want to live in coastal California rather than anywhere else in the country. Within that region the rankings went like this: #1 – San Diego / North County Coast, arguably the best climate in the continental US, full stop. Hidden Meadows (my hilltop) is slightly inland and warmer/drier than the coast; if pure climate optimization were the goal, dropping closer to the water (Del Mar, Encinitas, Carlsbad) would get you even more marine layer moderation. Average humidity is 60–65% but feels dry because temperatures are so mild. Almost zero severe weather risk. Being slightly inland makes it an optimal blend. Just for thoroughness, #2 is Santa Barbara, often called the “American Riviera” for good reason. It’s slightly cooler than San Diego in summer, protected by the Santa Ynez Mountains which block desert heat. Averages in the high 60s year-round, low humidity, stunning coastline. Smaller city feel, very high cost of living, but climate is arguably even more perfect than San Diego for someone who prefers the low 70s over the high 70s. Then #3 is Carmel-by-the-Sea / Monterey, which is cooler yet, with temperature firmly in the 60s year-round, sometimes foggy in summer. If you prefer crisp ocean air over warmth, this is paradise. It’s a bit remote from a major metro areas but extraordinarily beautiful. Pebble Beach is your backyard. The Honorable Mentions are Ventura / Ojai corridor, (underrated, less crowded than Santa Barbara, similar climate), Kona Coast, Hawaii (technically US even though not CA). The dry side of the Big Island averages 75–80°F with very low humidity for Hawaii; trade winds keep it comfortable year-round). I’m the other side of the country there’s Asheville, NC coast adjacent (four seasons, but some humidity). And let’s not ignore the Pacific Northwest coast mostly Oregon (mild but gray and rainy; humidity is present even if temps are comfortable).
This analysis underscores that we landed in arguably the best climate zip code in the country. Hidden Meadows is a few degrees warmer and drier than the coast, so if we ever wanted to fine-tune, Del Mar or Encinitas would be the marginal upgrade, but the trade-off with traffic and crowding hardly makes that worth it in my view. But the point is that even then we’re just trying to optimize an already near-perfect situation. The broader lesson from the climate data is that the 60s–70s / low humidity / coastal trifecta is almost exclusively a California coastal phenomenon in the continental US. No other coastline delivers it. The Gulf and Southeast coasts are humid and storm-prone, the Northeast coast has real winters, and the Pacific Northwest trades humidity for persistent gray. California’s Mediterranean climate is genuinely rare on a global basis, shared only by parts of the Mediterranean basin itself, coastal Chile, South Africa’s Western Cape, and southwest Australia (what?). Call me crazy, but all those places, (save the Mediterranean) seem pretty darn remote by comparison to living in good old San Diego.
I often hear the view that people miss the seasons when they live out here. Why is that? There are a few converging explanations for that besides the general human tendency to always need to find something to complain about. There’s the psychological rhythm and issue to start with. Humans evolved in temperate zones where seasons structured time. Planting, harvest, dormancy, renewal. That cycle maps onto deep narrative instincts about beginnings and endings, effort and rest. Perpetual sameness, however pleasant, can feel like being outside of time. People in perfect climates sometimes describe a vague sense that “nothing marks the passage of the year.” Then there’s contrast and anticipation…more psychology. Pleasure is partly relative. The first warm spring day after a hard winter produces a joy that 72°F in February in San Diego simply can’t replicate. The same neurological machinery that makes food taste better when you’re hungry makes seasons more vivid when they’re “earned”. Mild climates compress that dynamic range. There is an aesthetic and sensory richness to seasons. Fall foliage, first snow, cherry blossoms, summer thunderstorms… each season has a distinct sensory palette. People who grew up with four seasons often have deep aesthetic and emotional associations baked in. It’s partly nostalgia, partly genuine beauty that mild climates don’t offer. And then there is the cultural and social programming since much of Western literature, art, music, and holiday tradition is organized around seasonal transitions. Christmas feels like it should be cold. Halloween belongs to dying leaves. These cultural anchors are powerful even when intellectually you’d prefer 70°F in December.
People in four-season climates romanticize perpetual warmth. People in perpetual warmth quietly miss drama and contrast. It’s the same impulse. Surveys consistently show that people rate their local climate as worse than it objectively is … everyone thinks somewhere else has better weather, though that happens a lot less here in SD. The irony is that revealed preference tells the real story (there’s that self-selecting thing coming through). People vote with their feet toward mild climates when they have economic freedom to choose. The consistent migration patterns toward coastal California, Arizona (you gotta love dry heat), and Florida (you gotta want moist heat) suggest the craving for seasons is more nostalgic than operational. People want the idea of seasons more than the reality of scraping ice off a windshield in February. I’m guessing that we are probably past that illusion at this point.
Technically, March 20th (vernal equinox) is the start of spring, but that’s almost irrelevant for San Diego. San Diego doesn’t really have a spring in the classical sense. What it has is February/March when wildflowers bloom in places like Anza-Borrego, which is the closest thing to a classic spring signal. That gets followed by “May Gray” and “June Gloom”, when the marine layer actually increases May through June, making those months cooler and grayer than winter. The seasonal calendar that actually governs North County San Diego life is roughly:
• Dec–Feb: Cool, occasional rain, greenest hills
• Mar–May: Warming, beautiful, wildflowers
• June: Marine layer, overcast mornings
• July–Sept: Warm and clear, best beach weather
• Oct–Nov: Santa Ana winds, fire risk, but spectacular warm sunny days (often the locals’ favorite season)
But we humans are also creatures of habit and I am into my spring gardening blitz. My Queensland Bottle Tree may thing its fall, but I know its spring in my bones. Every day I wake up with a different gardening project in mind. There are times of the year that I largely ignore the garden and times when I’ve been too lazy or lacking in energy to get up and go into the garden, but neither condition exists right now. Right now I am full of beans at my reduced weight and increased exercise coefficient, so I am the gardening version of the Eveready Bunny. I have a mental list of things to pick up at the nursery, garden center and rock store. Again today, a day that Kim and Buddy have abandoned me to my garden, I will be all over that, sprucing up this, adding that, replacing whatever strikes me as needing it and generally wearing myself out (in a good way) all day long. I can’t blame it on the seasons and I know that people who have known me my whole life are scratching their heads wondering what has gotten into Rich, but all I can say is that spring has sprung.