Oh Inland Summers, just as I warm up to you and your splendor, you fade away on me. It's become a game we play each year, as predictable as can be. Here's to one last toasty trip inland before winter settles into the mountains.
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| My morning run |
Sunny mornings, long days up high.
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| Breakfast: Carrot pumpkin muffins and coffee. |
Mountain peaks and alpine lakes.
Paddles and long shadows.
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| Oh yeah. PB&J, sunshine, and root beer. |
Stroke. Stroke.
Swim. Sunscreen. Repeat.
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| Can every run end with a refreshing dip? |
Fog returns to the coast. Drizzle and mold.
Inland, the smoke clears. Bikini naps in my hammock.
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| Breezed through two books in three days. That's some sort of record for me, I think. |
I used to be sad about the gloomy coastal summers and felt like they were missing something, but they're beginning to grow on me. It's not missing anything, it's just different. Just as our snow-free winter offers controlled doses of gloriously white skiing and winter camping yet absolutely no driveway shoveling, coastal summers are cool enough to run whenever I want but have sunshine, sweltering dry heat, and glorious reservoir lakes not far inland.
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| Yooper hat? Shades? 20 layers of sunscreen? Check, check, and check! :) |
It's like living in Choose Your Own Adventure climate book. Fog? Sun? Snow? Rain? There's a little bit of everything if you know where to look and keep an eye on the forecast.
"Live in northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft." I heard
this song on the radio while driving home. Fitting, don't you think? California, you're growing on me. If that's wrong, I don't want to be right!
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| My own private beach. |
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