Day 12 - Summer Fog

During this never-ending (4-year long) drought, I've found that the city has changed. I go out to the Judah and 48th, a once a dead residential neighborhood, and see artisan cafes, serving pour-over coffee. I watch surfers walk by the cafe window, ready to jump into the cold Pacific, as I eat my $4 cinnamon-sugar toast. Dolores Park is no longer "the beach" because the beach is now "the beach." Every day is expected to be nice, and my friends from LA haven't complained in ages. 

While this all sounds wonderful, there's something that's felt off about this perfect weather. I don't know if it's partially a fear of global warming, or an awareness of the severity of this drought, or if it's just because it no longer feels like home. 

For the first time in what feels like year, we've had several weeks of consistently foggy weather. The city's cooled down, and consequently it's felt like it's slowed down. In a city that's changed so quickly that I feared I wouldn't be able to keep up, there's something reassuring about the white mist enveloping my home, quieting everything down.