I watch the black oaks of my woods sway gently against an early morning expanse that is an uncharacteristic gray, but a gray illumined by a softer and gentler summer's sun.
What yesterday had been the regal, glossy green leaves of the stately sentinels are today, rather, a buffed sage foliage that I do not recall ever having viewed before. Somehow, the look, the feel, the mood that overtake me at this moment transport me back to the foggy coast of my youth. At that particular time of my life, I was not so taken with the unrelenting cool of a Pacific summer.
Now, in this land of perpetual sun whose increasing rise in temperature is, in a frightening way, relentless, this sudden and uncommon wafting of damp and fresh upon my body is healing . . .