Heading into Ocean Beach, San Diego, Thursday afternoon. Right where the San Diego River hits the coves and basins of Mission Bay, a gleaming cloud of white mist was heading toward the coastline, enveloping everything in its way.
By the time we got to the pier, it looked and felt like we were in San Francisco, everything wet, the sky gray-dark despite the sunlight above the clouds. The fog made the ground wet. Respite: BBQ burrito and onion rings on Newport Ave., the strip of bars and beach shops.
I tell my friends and family here to not ever forget that they basically live in Paradise. I mean it.
* Previously, "Coastal high."