Dear San Francisco,

You are a hide & seek wild child.

You ask we city dwellers to close our eyes in the fogs of June

or to look elsewhere to find summer in the northern hemisphere’s “typical” midyear cycle.

And then, just when we hit New Year,

a time when northerners strive to relinquish winter’s grip

and dive into the seeking of a summery getaway fantasy,

you, San Francisco, pull out all the stops to bring summer upon us in a BIG BIG way.

Nearly 70 degrees EVERYDAY in this January. Last January. And the January before.

Well, well, dear wild child, I’m now onto you.

I like this game you play with me and the confused cherry & plum trees,

turning our New Year seeds of intentions into instant pops of blooming beauty.

And I’m sure the parrots of Telegraph are exclaiming:

Well, isn’t this quite a pleasant summer day!

when they dot your big bright blue sky with their festive feather strokes of green and red.

Their cross-city migratory sonic party tells me that January is the time

of California Dreamin’ and California livin’.