Our new digs are in the fog. I mean really deep into it. Summertime in San Francisco requires an open mind about what summer means. We wear fleece jackets, beanies and scarves in July as often as we would in January. That’s why when we get a weekend in the summer with no other plans – we head north, south, or east in search of a mystical summer that only appears in ads for hot dogs, mayonnaise, and Country Time lemonade. Head west – there’s only 25 blocks to the edge of the continent – and you’ll just find yourself deeper in the clouds.
We jumped on the day today and headed south to our favorite summer lunch spot in the small hamlet of Pescadero to be followed by some quality family beach time. Duarte’s Tavern has, and I’m not kidding here, the best soup on the planet. It’s a mix of green chili and cream of artichoke and is served with piping hot homemade bread. I could eat four bowls, even if I wasn’t pregnant. I look forward to this lunch a year in advance.
Once we stuffed ourselves so full it hurt a little bit (okay, a lot), we hit the beach and enjoyed some quality summertime fun. Autumn loves her sand toys almost as much as Elmo these days and had a ball. It wasn’t “warm” per se, but we were on a beach with nothing to do but hang out together and that’s a bit of summer that weather can’t touch. For more photos from the day, click here.