The sun begins to go...

[madrobins]

Outside my sunroom the sky is cotton-gray with fog; the lemon tree drips with fat, unjuicy lemons regardless, and wind stirs the flowering shrubs in the next yard over. Doubtless somewhere, in a sunlit forest, lovers are capering, confused and stirred by the actions of faery pranksters. Not in San Francisco: here we got fog and summer chill. Regardless: happy Solstice, all.