August 19, 2019
BY Jenni Astramowicz0
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Summer in this city, is not the sunny warm (or hot) season where locals pack parks and beaches or crowd sidewalk cafes late into the night.
As Twain discovered
- the coldest winter I ever spent was summer in San Francisco -
it is notoriously cool, windy and oft cloaked in thick fog. Tourists shiver in their short pants as they hang over the side of the cable cars, snapping pictures of the crookedest street.
The ubiquitous Fog (it is Fog City after all), babtized Karl, has garnered a fair amount of fame (and even has a Twitter Account @KarltheFog )
I have made promises to Karl - that should he return, bringing the cool breezy mist to relieve the cruel oppressive autumn heat - I would never again complain or bemoan the lack of summer sunshine. To date, I have kept these vows.
And the Muze keeps Karl's company...
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Please join me on my summer writing adventures
An exploration of all that is authentic by acknowledging three simple realities:
nothing lasts, nothing is finished, and nothing is perfect
Poetry, Prose & Pondering
- posted on Mondays
- posted on Mondays
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