Temecu-where?

Temecula. Pronounced Tuh-MECK-u-la, not Teme-KEW-la, for reference.  We've lived here almost eight years now.  I'm a native of Southern California, Los Angeles county to be precise.  Temecula is in SoCal, but it's a relatively new community overall, although it's been on the map as a stop on the Butterfield Stage route (as in stagecoach, as in Wild West) since the late-1800s.   Like most of the planet, I'd never even heard of the place until sometime in the 1990s, in my early 20s. But now I call it home. 

It's an in-between place that's close to other, bigger places.  One hour northwest is Orange County (and Disneyland), an hour south is San Diego, and driving forty-five minutes southwest through winding foothills will land you almost right on the sand in Oceanside.  An hour east and we're in the mountains of Idyllwild. 

Anyhoo.  I'm participating in a link-up party this week, over at the awesome and ever-inspring Design Mom blog.  Gabrielle is asking her readers to "Love the Place You Live," and since that can be a challenge for me some days, I thought it was a good project for me to tackle.

So before getting myself too tangled up in the pro and cons of living in this uber-surburban, arid little city of 100,000 souls,  I'll focus on something here that is unequivocally great:

Our public library. 

It's almost always packed.  Although it has a large parking lot, many times I've had to circle around vying for a space. (I hear that plans are in the works to expand the parking.)  When we moved here, the only library was across town from me, nearly twenty minutes away. It had a charming children's area, but overall the space felt dim and dated.  (And the parking was and remains horrible.)

Then, about five years ago, the new, sparkly library opened its doors.  In this town of stay-at-home moms, the mid-week Storytime is always crowded (they usually have to turn folks away).  The after-school events for the older kids usually sell out weeks ahead of time.

Snow-capped San Bernardino mountains in the distance

Perched on a high hill, you are surrounded by lovely foothills and an expansive view of our valley.   Inside is a long row of chairs parked in front of floor-to-ceiling windows that offer the same views. These are premium seats, and are hard to snag on any given day. Not a bad spot to blog from, or peruse the magazine archives.

Mt. San Jacinto in the distance. (Behind it lies Palm Springs and the desert.)

And it's open on Sundays, which seems impossible in these economic times for a county-run facility.  It's always busy on Sundays, too.  I've read that, in all of sprawling Riverside county (which includes the big cities of Riverside and Palm Springs), ours is by far the busiest in terms of circulation, book holds, and inter-library transfers. 

These photos were all taken from the parking lot on a Friday in February.  The Santa Ana winds were gusting, clearing out the clouds and raising the afternoon temperature into the mid-80s.  As I often remind myself, the Fates could've definitely placed me somewhere worse than here.  And after all, there's nothing like the consolation of books.