Goodbye foam, hello summer!
The warm weather yesterday, in my own mind, marked the first day of summer. I didn't have to wear a heavy coat when I went out at night--a light jacket would suffice. There was even talk of a heat wave. And I could ride my bike with a light sweater, sandals, and jeans that didn't hit my ankles. No layers? Crazy!
I'm always looking for signs of changing seasons here in wishy washy fancypants San Francisco. In the springtime, I am easily angered by the random warm and sunny days. Because everyone here knows that you will atone for the sins of enjoying nice weather the very next day, cursing the unreliability of weathermen as you fight against gale force winds and endless drizzle for the entire week to follow.
But before I cautiously move the heavy coats and boots and hats into areas less accessible, I'd like to reminisce about one night in December when I thought it had snowed. Somehow an entire city block (and nothing else) seemed to be covered in snow. One of the men from the fire department informed me that it was actually foam that had been sprayed on a few buildings that had caught fire. I was still excited by the aesthetics of the white, blanketed appearance of the street though, and took a few pictures:
Now that Donald Trump and his various advisers have had a few more months to make asses of themselves and generally terrify the planet, let's check back ...
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