I decided to jogwalk through the old neighborhood today, at East Highlands Ranch, in the foothills of the San Bernardino Mountains.

Early August, close to the zenith of a long, warm summer in this part of the world. Temperature pushing 90. Decided I needed to get moving by 10 a.m. so as not to fry.

I didn’t expect to see what I did, even though I had lived there for more than 15 years.

Green lawns. Eucalyptus trees growing without need of irrigation. Orange trees.

Thriving bushes. Colorful wildflowers. Natural shade from the sun. Soil that felt and looked like soil, not sand.

And I found myself thinking, “This is like Eden.”

All this is comparative, of course.

Ten years ago I would have been complaining about the Inland Empire summer. Too hot. Punishing. Smoggy. But that was before nearly two years in Abu Dhabi, in the UAE, where we have learned a whole new definition of “punishing summer.”

The SoCal summer is no joke, but it doesn’t turn you into a creature living inside rooms, scurrying from one air-conditioned oasis to another.  It doesn’t leave the land parched and the ground under your feet nothing but dead, inorganic sand. It doesn’t kill nearly every form of vegetation.

And it doesn’t have overnight lows barely 10 degrees below the high-noon highs. The drop of 30-35 degrees overnight, in the foothills of California, makes for a window of three or four hours in the morning when you can exercise outside without needing your head (as well as your heart) examined. The idea of, “Sure, I could live here” actually crosses your mind.

From the perspective of the SoCal beach, the IE has a tough climate. From the perspective of the Arabian Peninsula, the IE might be where Adam and Eve were driven out after improper dealings with a snake.