On the  Northern California coast, Fogust is the cruelest month.  After March winds and April showers, we’ve endured May Gray, June Gloom and No-Sky July.  Once again, fog—dense  in the morning, wispy in the afternoon, ghostly at night—has overstayed its welcome. I miss not just the sun, but the stars and the moon and the annual meteor showers I’ve never glimpsed. 

But while I measure summer in sunshine, nature keeps its own calendar.  So in this alleged summer month, I try reframing my dreary thoughts.