In June, we had enough days of wet fog and dismal gray that it forced me to plan a getaway to somewhere warm. Thanks to the generosity of my friend, John, we spent a week in Maui in early July. We returned to yet more gray and yet more fog. (San Francisco experienced its coldest July in 35 years.) Three weeks later, we went to Cleveland, where it was warm and summery. I wore tank tops and sundresses. I swam in Lake Erie.
We returned to San Francisco and slogged through gray August.
Now it is September, and I anxiously await my Indian Summer. Alas, today is ... foggy. Novel. My delayed summer has been delayed, again.
Today, I vow to live in a place where basil can grow.
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