Shelter in Place, San Francisco, California
Summer in San Francisco is fairly predictable and not at all like tourists expect. We are hot when the prevailing wind blows from the east, and cold when it comes off the ocean to the west. It is sunny and still in the mornings; the afternoon winds bend the trees and rattle the stove pipes. Occasionally, here on the hillside, the fog will get so thick that droplets wet the street, but there is no rain. Summer is the season of warm fleece and forest fires, dry grass and colorful perennials.
The south end of the patio - the sunny one - comes into its own this time of year, the flowers are bright and simple. This Lantana (nicknamed Luscious Marmalade) began to bloom last week. Next will come the Golden Feverfew, the pink Penstemon, the bright yellow yarrow and the purple salvia. The yellow and apricot roses are ready for a second run at blooming. The squash I planted a week ago is already coming up, but so far is only green. Most of this summer crop of flowers is hardy and long-lasting, so the tapestry behind our wooden bench will last - if well watered - through the summer months to come.
There are fewer signs outside the garden that summer is upon us and time is moving on. The light, of course, wakes us earlier each morning (at least it will for a few more days) and lingers with us over dinner. Last evening, the sound of fireworks and fire trucks surrounded and surprised us in that dusk. My goodness, can we be nearly to July? There will be no parade, no big street fairs this year, of course, but still, folks seem determined to make some noise. Most years, kids would pour into the streets right about now, giddy and free, but they’ve been out of school since March so summer simply means, I guess, there’s even less to do. Where are they going to play now that summer’s come? Not outside, it seems, not here. Home improvement projects, however, seem to be slowly getting back on track, at least we think so from the noise. Last week, it was house painters calling back and forth at a job across the street; today, a grinder drones from somewhere back behind the fence, and Spanish banter spills into the yard. Ubiquitous and annoying before the pandemic changed our world, construction sounds like progress now, a sign of hope and normal life returning.
Little will change for us this summer, I'm afraid - nothing happening like we planned - no visits from or to the grandkids, no weekends in small cabins in the mountains or by the shore. Fourth of July parades in small towns are my very favorite events to photograph, but we’ll not venture out this year. Instead - if the weather lets us - we’ll celebrate the holiday amid the bright colors that mark this season in our yard.