a veil of lovely drizzle

If you live in San Francisco, you know what I'm talking about. This time of year is supposed to be our secret summer, since we don’t get much of that during the real summer. September is supposed to bring bright blue skies and warm, dry days. But every morning, I pull back the curtain on more bone-chilling, damp fog and want to crawl back into my warm bed.

Don’t get me wrong, fog has its own charms and mystery. Just not now. So I've been grumping about this betwixt-and-between weather, and downright savoring the day or two when the fog finally peels back to reveal sunshine.

Then yesterday morning, I opened the curtain on the softest rain. I went out back, where it was softly-softly coming down. Not quite rain but more than mist. The air was surprisingly warm and the weather felt close, as they say in Ireland. I loved it. Finally, something other than fog. I tilted my head and closed my eyes and then opened them to notice the lightest lace of water lighting up the garden.

Then today, sunshine. Halleluiah.