Summer in San Francisco

Growing up in the San Joaquin Valley, I remember summers in great detail.  In particular, I have strong memories of the weather – temperatures in the triple digits and the air hot and still.  Clothing seemed optional; we would wear as little as possible. The local swimming pool kept us busy and distracted from the heat.  Many days, I would dream of a much larger pool, maybe the ocean, where I could surf and feel the relief of the cool air.

Years later, I live in San Francisco, near the ocean, where summers are a very different experience.  Early morning, a thick blanket of fog rolls in, obscuring the views. The cool summer breezes are steadfast, the ocean water freezing cold and, at times, the waves high and mighty.  Summer time in San Francisco is an oxymoron. Yet, with a jacket and gloves, I can’t resist the allure of that season, always changing and different.

My dreams of surfing in the ocean have been reduced to walking barefoot on the beach or lying on the sand to warm my bones.  Surrounded by the cawing of seagulls flying over head and the sound of the surf is, for me, home.