Winter is here, and it is wet
A sure way to start a heated debate in San Francisco–especially between locals and transplants–is to ask if we have seasons. The answers can vary between a solid No, to assertions that we have them but they are vague, undefined and recurring several times a year, to the idea that we have more than the usual four seasons, perhaps even as many as twenty.
Here is what I know: every December the rains come. They last for months with short hints of reprieve where the skies are only slightly less gray. They soak us to the bone and mist our glasses. Sometimes they lead to floods that punish the low-lying neighborhoods, especially south of SFSU.
The rains drive me to hermitism. I want to bunker down and weather out the storm. Eat comfort food. Watch videos. But that can only last so long. I find myself going through the classic steps of acceptance: denying the rain exists and avoiding carrying my umbrella. Getting angry at the rain. Depressed at the rain. Bargaining with the rain. It’s demoralizing, is what it is. It’s been only a few days, but already I miss the sun.
This is our winter, San Francisco. How do you deal with it?