Now that we have plans in place for leaving California, I’m constantly listening to remember — to remember the reasons why I’m leaving, and the reasons why I’ll miss it when I’m gone. I’ll miss the excellent birds; the devil winds I’ll be happy to leave behind.

In October, the devil winds, the Santa Anas, blow in from the great Sonoran and Mojave deserts and turn Southern California into the world’s largest outdoor blow dryer. Mornings aren’t usually so bad, but in the afternoon the wind comes up and sucks all the moisture out of your hair, skin and eyes. The sky turns as clear and hard and blue as a huge chunk of turquoise, and actual tumbleweeds blow down the streets and fields. These are the winds that fuel California’s wildfires and make you pray for rain. I hate Santa Anas. I want football weather. I want crisp fragrant leaves crunching underfoot. I want sweaters. I will have to leave town to get those things.

As ugly and unwelcome as the devil winds may be, that’s how beautiful the birds are. Over the weekend, in the desert, we had the pleasure of watching roadrunners scoot through the fields. On my morning commute today, I watched a snowy egret flap slowly across the face of an office building, probably not realizing he’s one of the few things of beauty to grace this suburban sprawl. As a little girl on the East Coast, I dreamed of seeing such birds, which seemed as exotic to me as China, and as far away. Today I miss robins and blue jays, and egrets can be found in any wetland, eastern or western; but I will miss roadrunners and California quail.

That’s the bitterness and the sweetness of moving about. There is always something you long for, and always something you miss. I wear nostalgia like a big wooly sweater; it keeps me warm, but something’s always itching somewhere.