Golden Orb Persimmon season, webs built on drain pipes and ripe fruit, between window panes and door stops, in cars – big fat golden orbs amongst the glowing persimmon leaves shaking off in the wind.
So dark you can’t see the hills, eucalyptus branches breaking and storm drains full of asphalt. Sometimes the power goes out – sometimes the bay surges. Clear stars and we breath in all the dirt that falls from the sky. Waves from Hawaii and early nights at home around the couch. Soup in buses. Soup.
Plums explode. Crabapples Explode. Cherries explode. Green hills. Seeds. Magnolias. Maybe a tang-top. Garden starts. A few windy days.
Fog every morning in the dark – blankets of comfort – hundreds of tiny clouds pushed together over the bay flowing together in gentle cooperation. Moisture and spitting and by noon it burns through. Wind follows, , through the teeth of the foot hill – delivering moisture, flumes of ocean air, afternoon clouds and wind – the great summer’s relief – wind.