Another magical fog weekend. Last night, Jeff and I attended an end-of-summer BBQ in Bernal Heights. In addition to our warm hosts and interesting guests, the fog made an appearance as well--rolling over the western hills just in time for dusk. From Bernal Heights, you could watch the fog pile up against the hills and then--like a plugged sink--roll right on over into Noe Valley below. Made for a spectacular sunset. And a chilly evening afterwards.
Today, we walked through the Marina District, under the classic Palace of Fine Arts, through the Presidio, and out to Crissy Field. All along, the sun shined brightly, but the Golden Gate fog horn told us that the fog had returned. Sure enough, even though we walked in warm rays, boats and birds were engulfed in a thick fog on the Bay.
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