Off in the distance, Angel Island pulls a comforter of clouds up to her chin and falls back to sleep, mirroring exactly how I felt as I woke up this morning to another grey day on the bay. Welcome to June gloom.
While the rest of the country is welcoming warm evenings and fireflies, those of us in the Bay Area are beset by fog and strong winds that come whistling over the waters, setting up camp for days and turning all the shorts-clad tourists walking across the Golden Gate Bridge a frosty shade of blue.
Yes, only in San Francisco will you see people wearing down
jackets – in July. Even after more than two decades of living here, I still can't get used to the Bay Area's so-called summers.
But don't take up the tiny violins for me just yet. There's a sliver of peach on the horizon. I'm on the water for god's sake. And just three miles away the Golden Gate Bridge waits to thrill me again.
Mr. Toad's pal Ratty was right, there's nothing – absolutely nothing – half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats (even in June gloom).