Dear Jake & Amelia,
The sky continues to spit as we follow fog up the coast. Ragged cliffs fall to the ocean. Pieces of craggy rock litter the water. A white line of waves separates gray water from dark gray rock. The clouds sit low. The fog obscures view and color.

Water hangs in the air. The land is dry. The grasses are yellow. The coastal redwoods growing nearby depend on the fog to survive the dry season. We have not quite adjusted to all this moisture, to the fog. Everything feels damp. We are damp. Will we start to mold? 

Nancy & Peter

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