The thing that I appreciated most when we first moved up here to the hills nine months ago was the movement of the fog over The Bay. The fog could just be a narrow ribbon across the horizon, starting over the south span of The Bridge and extending over the north of The City. The next morning the sun would rise behind us and there would be a still white pillow covering everything below us (except the clumsy lump of Albany Hill, the tips of the spires on The Bridge, and the three-pronged radio tower on the hill across the way). I would drive down into that cloud to work. If it hadn’t burned off by my drive back in the evening, it would rise up the hill and spill out around us, rushing silently between the houses.
That season is starting up again now, a couple of months before we move down into Alameda. We’ll live and work under the fog for half the summer and fall there.