feather2pixels

As your supreme leader,  I order it illegal to complain that San Francisco doesn’t have seasons, enforced by a one hundred coconut fine.   It’s okay if you don’t like the San Francisco seasons or find them different than what you might be used to, but people who say that San Francisco doesn’t have seasons either just got here or haven’t been outside yet.   Amateur hour!

(In a fantasy world that I created in my head, I am supreme leader of San Francisco.   Much like a clinical schizophrenic, I created this fantasy world because it is too difficult for me to live in reality, where lots of people know more about the city than I do.  Oh, and I run my city in the model of the Kingdom of Jordan.)

My point is that Sunday was the typical SFs winter day: wet, beautiful, and teeming with life.  Bernal Hill was bright green and there was a five pound rump roast on the BBQ.

Bernal Hill

South Van Ness Ave

This entry was posted on Wednesday, March 9th, 2011 at 2:57 pm and is filed under atmospheric phenomena, food porn. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.