We don’t want for natural beauty around here. It is good to remember that. After twelve years in the Richmond District, the sound of the fog horns has been softened by the white noise of citified life. Those horns should serve as a reminder. A reminder that Lands End is more than a name. That we sleep at the edge of the continent—a short walk from the great Pacific. It’s good to remind ourselves. To spy the Farallons on a clear day. To take a detour at sunset and spend a few minutes along the sea wall watching the horizon for a green flash as the sun fades away. Or maybe to spend a night in a grove of trees beneath the Golden Gate Bridge and watch the sun rise on your home, just a few miles away.
