Sunday

I'm sitting here with the back door open. Sunshine is pouring through the door's portal, and flies are chasing each other merrily just outside. I'm sure that they will eventually start to invade, drawn by the hardening lasagna pan and glasses with droplets of sticky wine clinging from the night before. I don't mind their buzz very much, especially in exchange for the warming glow of the sun, the humming of the humming birds, and the chirps of other avians.

San Francisco has funny weather. It could be warm all morning and then drop of in the afternoon. Or it could be foggy all day only to burn off to create a pleasant 4pm. Or it could be cold and foggy one day and warm and beautiful the next. Thankfully, it seems to be more of the latter so far.