Up in the Cuyamacas there is still a winery that lets you take your shoes off and get into the barrel yourself.
People drive an hour into the mountains every September to do the thing Lucy Ricardo did on television, except the grapes are real, the juice is warm, and the laughter is the specific kind that comes from watching a grown adult lose their footing in front of witnesses. This has been going on for twenty-eight years. The winery sits at forty-two hundred feet in oak and pine, and by early September the air up here already carries the first suggestion of autumn, a season the coast otherwise does not get. Live bands, local food, and tasting from fruit grown on the same hillside you are standing on.
Julian Orchards Drive, a Saturday out in the backcountry, late morning into the afternoon.
Go with whoever complains that San Diego has no seasons. Hand them a glass and let the pines make the argument.