Never Mind What I Said About Fall

It's still summer in Northern California.
Cranky and I sat at a wooden picnic table today underneath the fringes of what we call around here the "marine layer" — a summertime phenomenon of coastal fog that laps against the shore and threatens to blot out a good tomato-growing season for many southern Marin residents. That's why, when we lived in Mill Valley, I kept all my pots of tomatoes on wheeled platforms: so we could chase the precious sun across the deck all day long, on those days that decided not to be foggy. Foggy days — heh — they usually tended to be windy too, and on those days, we had to upright the potted plants that were constantly blown over.
In Sausalito, where we had lunch today, the fog encroached over the coastal hills almost all the way to the bay, but we lucked out and had a sunny repast. A little windy. Sweatshirt required.
Cranky kept turning his face skyward (when he wasn't turning it bayward) and crooning, "This is just like being on Nantucket! I feel like I'm still on vacation!"
I said, "No, this is Sausalito. People come HERE to be on vacation."
What a beautiful place to live.
I'll get around to fall in a little while. Right now, allow me some picnicking.