Sunday morning in the misty fog

I think finally our summer has begun. It had some false starts and then sun would return. Bu the mornings and evenings now are wet with mist and swirling winds and scattering leaves. When I open the front door to get the NY times I think to myself what season are we in. Summer in SF always confuses me. Leo is stretched out asleep on top of the our bed surrounded by newspaper. I have nothing more to report except to say I love you.