A colleague once observed, many years ago, that California has two seasons. Green and brown. We are in the latter, and death has visited my neighborhood this summer. Half the ground cover in my frontyard has burned to a crunchy crisp. Across the street, a neighbor draped white sheets over shrubbery that hadn’t already gone brittle. The Los Angeles-area forecast offers no relief. After weeks of relentless heat, including record-shattering temperatures more commonly associated with Palm Springs, it’s supposed to get hotter over the next several days.