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!
Nature’s perfect snack.
Eggplant waits for the bus.
Headless urban statuary.
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.
J in the dim light.
You’re not the boss of me.
Hell’s waiting room.
A backup pole.
Sundown Cleaners: Night Soil.
Croissants’ grand day out.
A night trying to fit expensive bikes into free boxes.
Who let Ripley into the apartment?
Everything is gone, and the apartment is an echo chamber of old memories.
A motorcycle skeleton.
Miner’s lettuce finds a way.
An unusually tall neighborhood tree.
The Masonic entrance.
St. Mary’s interior.
The top level of the Ferry Building.
Construction without pier.
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.