Morning 7am Hawk Hill ride from the apartment. Fog was dripping, the air was still and warm. SF was muggy today.
Super durable, low tech, asset tagging; not suitable for trees.
My Uncle Robert recently got a film/slide scanner and sent me some photos he took of the family today. This may be a birthday party or some summer holiday. Looking at these gets me nostalgic for the days of rusty metal play sets, backyards with no fences, the smell of grilled chicken, being with my cousins, and running around not giving a damn about the heat or humidity.
New Year’s Day Em and I biked to Ocean Beach to take in the surf, the low winter light was sharp to the southwest making silhouettes of people walking on the beach and to the northwest you could see all the way to the Farallon Islands. Today, I took an after work bike ride across the bridge to Hawk Hill and the Point Bonita Lighthouse. The short days stranded me without daylight on the far side of the headlands, my bicycle light is an anchor, I cannot see the hills around me but feel them as my legs slow and my breath is short. It’s quiet and you have just your thoughts, “There are no mountain lions out here, right?” I startle birds which flash across my headlights just as the occasional car breaks my focus, zipping easily uphill past me with a tap of the gas. The few signs that the City is just over the ridge. Falling back into the City, it’s headlights behind me across the bridge, wind at my back, I’ll be home in a half hour. 6 years in San Francisco and this place still knocks me over with its beauty. I am filled with gratitude and appreciation for the time I am able to experience it. If I ever take this place for granted, give me a swift kick.