A Final February in San Francisco
During our final February in San Francisco, J and I made the most of the scenery and people we’ve come to know.
In the last week, we started packing and thinning out our stuff. The movers came Thursday and hauled it all away.
For two more nights we stay in our empty and echoing apartment. It feels lifeless and sad. There is nothing to cook with, nowhere to sit. We sleep on a carpet and comforter reserved for the trash.
Today, we went on our last walk: ten miles to the ferry building while running errands along the way.
We took a ferry ride to Sausalito, got on the next boat back, and ordered expensive and interesting flavors of hipster ice-cream.
Garbage alley dim sum door.
That’s so Russian!
Seppuku.
Nature’s perfect snack.
Sunset Cathedral.
Perpendicular butt.
Star landing.
Eggplant waits for the bus.
The fallen.
Turtle battery.
Headless urban statuary.
Dat trim.
Smelly, even from the outside.
Cool Spot was actually just drunk.
Just load them in the garage!™
A woodpecker filled tree.
Colonel Dijon, in the conservatory, with the carnivorous plant.
Bad for business.
Unusual Victorian.
Sunset people.
J in the dim light.
You’re not the boss of me.
Hell’s waiting room.
TIX3.
A backup pole.
St. Ignatius.
Sundown Cleaners: Night Soil.
Tacky.
Jaws III.
Hat storage.
Croissants’ grand day out.
Sunset slope.
A night trying to fit expensive bikes into free boxes.
Goodbye office.
Who let Ripley into the apartment?
Everything is gone, and the apartment is an echo chamber of old memories.
Goodbye scooter.
A motorcycle skeleton.
Vibrant building.
Miner’s lettuce finds a way.
An unusually tall neighborhood tree.
The Masonic entrance.
Stained glass.
St. Mary’s interior.
The labyrinth.
The top level of the Ferry Building.
Construction without pier.
J noir.
Bay Bridge.
The Rock.
Onward to the unknown.
While we don’t know where we will unpack our boxes, it’s unlikely to feel like San Francisco.
I’ll miss the weather, the hills, the crowds, the variety of food, cultures, and insane people. I’ll miss the accessible agriculture, forest, and mountain adventures. But most of all I will miss the coast.
The infinite salty view has both comforted me and kept me from walking too far west.
Oh, Nik, how I savor your photos and posts. You are a brilliant writer and photographer and I shall look forward to hearing where you land, if only temporarily…May you and J have safe and adventurous travels. I almost had tears over the palpable loss you expressed.
Take care.
February 21st, 2015 at 1:07 pm