Park It

I live in a city known for its micro climates where the weather varies from one neighborhood to the next. I live in a neighborhood notorious for the worst weather in the city with constant fog and wind and I find myself chasing the sunshine. I awoke to the promising sound of birds chirping a sweet song outside my bedroom window. I extended my arms and legs for a full stretch, rubbed my eyes, and parted the blinds hoping for sunshine. Much to my disappointment were fog and blanket clouds in sight.

A bowl of oatmeal warmed my stomach and I headed out the door with Derby for our morning walk.

A phone call from a friend inviting me to play outside was the perfect pick me up. "Come over its so nice out!" he said. "It is?" I asked with excitement. "Yeah, come over" he exclaimed.

I put on a long flowing sun dress and walked to the corner to catch the Muni (light rail train) in pursuit of some California sunshine and the company of a friend.

Sure enough when I got off the Muni and walked up the stairs out of the under ground station the sky was bright blue and the sun was shinning gloriously.

We headed to Dolores Park one of my favorite places here. It is a popular spot in the city, especially on a nice day. The park's hillside buzzing with people. It was the usual scenery; frisbees flying, barbeques smoking, people lazily laying in the grass, vendors wheeling their carts peddling ice cream and sweet treats.

A typical and picture perfect Sunday in San Francisco.

We found a spot to camp out and nestled into the cool green grass. I hiked up my dress and unveiled my legs to the sun in attempt to recover the color I have lost since I moved here. I watched the clouds breeze by and listened to the park.

In the distance a bow smoothed across a cello and the melody soothed my ears. I gazed over to see the impromptu concert of friends. A guitar joined in and made for part of the park's soundtrack.

A young man with tan skin and tight arms made his way through the maze of people strewn about. He was carrying bronze antique looking water pots with white miniature canvas umbrellas protruding. He bent down and revealed the goodies to three smiling girls on a nearby blanket. They pointed to the pot in the middle. The young man used a pair of tongs to gently extract the chocolate truffles and placed them into a crisp bakery bag handing them over to the girls.

The exchange, the idea of home made chocolate truffles for sale in the park, the whole park experience, brings a smile to my face. I lay back, close my eyes and soak in the moment.