The heat has broken today, I think. Our canyon acts like a funnel, drawing the coastal fog inland. Here where it's narrow, you can actually see the fog move. I'm trying to think of the right metaphor, but it's eluding me. It's like a tube, a finger of fog, a freight train barreling down the tracks. No?
Just to orient you, in the photo above, the coast is to the left and the valley is to the right. When the fog comes in, you can watch it move from left to right. Something valley-ward beyond my view halts its progress and makes it pile up, and in the time it's taken me to write this, it's risen up and filled my neighborhood. My house is in a cloud now.
1 comment:
Maybe you could pour the leftover coffee on the roses? They like the acid, no? And then have some fresh coffee? Just a suggestion...
One of the biggest things I miss about our house on the canyon in the Palisades (known as Stepford on my blog), is the fog rolling up the canyon. There is rarely any fog in Calabasas (Faux Town). -sniff-
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