Unnatural States
Dear fog,
Come back! I miss you.
All my love,
ase
Summer in California blows my mind: it's a visual negative of DC winters. On the East Coast, lawns stay green after maples and oaks lose foliage and color; an August drive across the Golden Gate or down the peninsula sweeps across vistas of dessicated grass interrupted by deep-rooted green trees.
Of course, this is only visible outside San Francisco, or when temperatures rise and drive the fog out of cross-Bay sightlines. If it gets hot enough, it's still difficult to see the hills: a Monday morning drive across the Bay Bridge gave me the chance to see what Oakland looks like cloaked in 90 degrees and water vapor haze.
As I type this, my ancient but mostly functional laptop is whining. Hand to higher powers, Firefox: give back some RAM or I will end you.
Come back! I miss you.
All my love,
ase
Summer in California blows my mind: it's a visual negative of DC winters. On the East Coast, lawns stay green after maples and oaks lose foliage and color; an August drive across the Golden Gate or down the peninsula sweeps across vistas of dessicated grass interrupted by deep-rooted green trees.
Of course, this is only visible outside San Francisco, or when temperatures rise and drive the fog out of cross-Bay sightlines. If it gets hot enough, it's still difficult to see the hills: a Monday morning drive across the Bay Bridge gave me the chance to see what Oakland looks like cloaked in 90 degrees and water vapor haze.
As I type this, my ancient but mostly functional laptop is whining. Hand to higher powers, Firefox: give back some RAM or I will end you.