The weather here has been getting pretty weird these past few years, and by weird I mean that the climate in San Francisco is changing ever so slightly to mimic the seasons felt in the rest of the world. Last year in June I remember chugging hot chocolate at AT&T Park; last May we were seat-jumping to find cover from the rain. I usually don't go without tights until mid-August and September is the unofficial month for unintentional tanning citywide. Otherwise, we're at a steady 56-68 degrees Fahrenheit with a healthy blanket of fog hanging around, usually in my corner of the city.
These hot days during the proper spring and summer used to be uncommon phenomena in San Francisco but now seem to be increasing in number, like cyclists on Market Street during Critical Mass. It was a welcome surprise to go to work in nothing but a silk shirtdress - cotton jacket unnecessary. However, it also felt like I should be on vacation and made going to work that much harder.
The air was still plenty warm when I left downtown on the newly inducted Nx bus line but I knew that the western bit of the city - also known as home - wouldn't let me down. As I stepped off the coach I was greeted by light gray skies, a flippy breeze, and the weak warmth of refracted sunlight.
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| still warm, even with the comforting cloud cover |
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