It's eerie how similar it all seems.

Farmers are obviously running water and starting up their wind machines, hiring helicopters to go up and mix up the air a little bit. But when it gets down to a certain temperature, there is only so much a farmer can do.

It looks pretty bad with the lemons, and I know that we've got damage in the navel orange groves as well.

The damage starts on the trees at the outside of the grove and the exposed fruit at the top of the trees. We're hearing now that damage is getting further into the grove. Consecutive nights of cold weather weakens the fruit.

It was kind of eerie.

The viewless air seemed to be flocking with hidden listeners. The very clearness and the crystal silence were their ambush. He alone seemed to be the target of cold and hostile scrutiny. There was not a breath to breathe in this crisp, pale sunshine. It was all too rare, too thin. The shadows lay like wings everlastingly folded.