Underfoot the ground is parched, rock hard and dusty, the sun shines hot from crystal skies and occasional breezes rustle the trees and send dust clouds up into small eddies while only marginally cooling the heat. Tufts of weed and grass remain but seem to be turning to pale yellow by the hour, some already sun kissed enough to disintegrate into more dust if we step on them. It’s all very different from the verdant forests and regular rain of the last three weeks. Spring is turning into summer into the mountains above Los Angeles. Acton, the small town which is my daughter Lindsay’s home, receives its hot days of…