I live in what is arguably the sunniest part of San Francisco, within a block of Dolores Park. As the fog fills in around us, our house sits in the donut hole of sunlight.
That is, until the fog wind blasts eastward, obliterating the eye of the foggicane.
You see, it’s never that sunny or that warm here (except for a few freaky days each year). Even in neighborhoods with good-weather reputations.
That’s why I personally think it’s wise — as a buyer — not to dwell too much on gauging micro climates within the city. As they say, There Will Be Fog.
Because it’s ALL SunnyFoggy. Get it? SunnyFoggy? SF? San Francisco?
35+ years and, oh, the things I’ve witnessed:
- My young children standing atop the sea wall at Ocean Beach, leaning over the sand at a 70 degree angle as the wind howls
- Tuxedo-clad grooms chasing the veils snatched by the wind from their betrotheds’ heads while posing for photos in Golden Gate Park
- A bean bag ottoman toppling down the middle of California Street like a tumbleweed
- Sunnyside Park picnics where the smart guests are wearing balaclavas
- Down jackets worn 3 out of every 5 days in June
- Fourth of July fireworks watchers wrapped up in sleeping bags at Crissy Field
- Cyclists nearly blasted off their bikes as they head south across the Golden Gate Bridge
- There’s just a lot of cool (or cold) and grey mixed in with the crisp blue skies and the cloudless sunny days. You get used to it. Sort of.
Especially if you pay attention to just one word I’m about to write: WOOL!