About a week ago it was 85 degrees in San Francisco. In April. And in two months it will be 50 in the middle of the afternoon. No-one knows who said “the coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco” but it is as true today as it was then.
From June to September the blustery winds blowing Karl the Fog through the Golden Gate chills shorts-and-T-shirt-wearing tourists to the bone, leaving many wondering “just when do I get to see the beautiful city in all those movies?” As any local will tell you, San Francisco has two summers: a brief one in April-May just after the rains and before Karl the Fog arrives in force, and then another for six weeks beginning in late September and through October.
My personal favorite is our summer in May. The rains leave Northern California looking so emerald green it could easily be mistaken as western Ireland. The lingering clouds provide breathtaking sunsets and sunrises over the ocean. The rivers are full. Everything is alive.
It’s paradise.