after years of living in Livermore, in the valley, where it gets well over 100 degrees for weeks at a time, I am still so grateful when the fog reaches us here on the other side of the East Bay hills. The air moves and is the definition of fresh. I remember when I moved here in 1977 and was a student at St. Mary's College. The brilliant white fog clouds would roll in over the Golden Gate Bridge and the sight of them was breathtaking. It meant our natural air conditioner had been turned on and it was a matter of hours til we felt the cool damp air seep into our atmosphere and cool our skin. It is always lovely to sleep when the fog blankets the neighborhood. Today is one of those days. Thank heaven. I feel alive and like I can move and think and do. I am grateful, that is all.
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