I’m on my way to San Francisco to see my brother. I’m going to miss a big warm-up at home – into the 60s, maybe. Instead, I met the charming Ms. Smith flying all the way from Manchester, UK to visit her son. She has a beautiful garden at home, decades in the making, while we are only just beginning. She promises to send pictures when she gets home.
(San Francisco, CA) There is no spring thaw in San Francisco – it isn’t necessary – but winter rains abate and a clean green is born again, raised up on a cold sea swell. The city gleams white after we break through the clouds for landing, over the Golden Gate and down the bay, into the homes of loved ones.