San Franciscans talk about how we usually have to pay for it when we get weather like this. A couple of days of perfect park weather, or beach weather, or strolling-through-the-typically-foggy Sunset weather, are most often followed by days of rain, or socked-in fog, or impenetrable grayness that encourages emotional eating and destroys all springtime diets. Alas, we're being blessed this week with a steady blaze of sun, and from what we can tell we won't be paying for it... at least not right away. more ›

Thunderstorms and snow are to San Franciscans what earthquakes and culture are to Midwesterners, so last night was pretty special. Hopefully you kept dry and drank a hot toddy or three and maybe you were even lucky enough to have a fireplace — or a view of the spectacle. Did you see these amazing shots? Did you see this crazy photo of lightning striking the Bay Bridge in like six different spots at once? Anyway, good times. But they're not over! more ›

We've had another in a series of early springs this week, with last Sunday being the big, beach-going, park-sitting height of it. Mark Zuckerberg couldn't resist coming out to prove he does, really, have friends. And all the frisbee-tossers and gay boys were fast to rip their shirts off in the sun. Today will be another clear and balmy day, hitting the mid-60s at least (though it may be warmer in the Mission or Dogpatch, and even warmer tomorrow), so perhaps not a shirt-ripping-off kind of day, but it will also be a day of a major solar storm, featuring some of the biggest flares shooting off the molten surface of the sun that observers have seen in five years. more ›

Forget your troubles, c'mon get happy! It's gonna pour today! Like for real. Or so they say. Yesterday's flaccid drizzle was nothing compared to what you'll see this afternoon and evening, so get out those galoshes and scrap any plans you had of doing any grocery shopping that involves paper bags. more ›

It's time to the pay the piper. You've had your fun. You've sat in Dolores Park in January. You've basked in weather that was almost like Southern California's at this time of year, and now it's freezing. It was below freezing in parts of the East Bay this morning, and a lot of real housewives of Walnut Creek had to throw some protective burlap over their gardens. And somewhere up in Napa County it hit 13 degrees this morning. That just ain't right. more ›

Waiting for the rain is kind of like waiting for a dentist appointment. You know it's coming, you know you need it, you're just happy enough that it isn't happening until next week. You're happy to wait. It's a lot easier to jog off those December pounds in the morning if it's sunny out. And after getting dumped on last year, you deserve this. more ›

You've landed. You're back in the office. You're only a little worse for wear and thank god it's not raining. You don't need to believe in astrology or ascribe to any sort of religion to understand the psychic conundrum of January. It's a time of fresh starts, cleaning house, reconsidering what you're doing with your life. But the collective mood is one of hunkering down, hiding out, staving off depression however you know how. Maybe it's a good time to start kayaking, communing with nature. Maybe you gave up drinking for a while on Tuesday and here it is Friday and now what. more ›

The Sierra-bound skiers and Christmas music fans will be singing "Let It Snow," but that ain't really happening, at least for a couple of weeks. Nor will it be a typically drizzly December as the month shapes up to be a more typical La Niña-pattern year than last year (see also this explanation from last winter, also a La Niña year, which turned out to be pretty wet in the end, with a record 800 inches of snow getting dumped on Tahoe). But then again the experts say there is no typical La Niña for California. It all depends on the position of the jet stream in relation to us, or whatever, the point being it's looking a lot drier than last year so far, which we kind of like. Cold and dry. A series of windy, wintry days when you want to listen to Simon & Garfunkel and write a longhand letter to your high school girlfriend, but you go through far fewer umbrellas and you can wear more fashionable jackets. more ›

Brrr, right? You were probably walking around the Mission without a scarf last night and totally regretted that. And it was something like 40 degrees when you woke up this morning, and despite the sky being really blue it sure feels like a season. Remember how rainy December has been the last couple of years? In any event, it's easier getting into the holiday spirit if you're not being drenched with rain, and they tell us that this cold, windy, but dry weather is expected to last all week and maybe into next. So put on your mittens, be glad that it's not, like, 30 degrees, and go buy your mother something nice, OK? more ›

It's as though the gods want you to suffer this Thanksgiving, to just put the fucking turkey in the oven and hunker down with your Pinot and whiskey and give thanks that at least you aren't stuck in an airport somewhere. At least the election's over, and at least you don't have to deal with your annoying aunt/brother this year... more ›

They say there's no such thing as earthquake weather. There's also no such thing as astrology, if you ask your more rational Virgo friends anyway, and we still see too many patterns there to ignore. But earthquake weather is usually thought to be calm, hot, and still, where a creepy silence comes over the land as all the birds and animals instinctively head for shelter. Clearly earthquakes are on our mind. Today's not going to be hot enough, probably, to qualify for earthquake weather, but still you might enjoy playing this song to get you through the morning. more ›

There's nothing like waking up slightly hungover from a friend's mid-week birthday, your eyes oddly sticky and glossed over — what's this? You left your contacts in. Gross — to sit by the window drinking a sports beverage and watch the rain pour down. All those poor people who have to move around out there in it. So sorry for them. But you're not there. You're dry, and relatively cozy save for this headache. And then ... tap ... t-tap tap ... your window being pelted with frozen peas. HAIL! When was the last time it hailed? Oh, right, sometime last winter, but still it's always a little disturbing. Solid things should not fall from the sky. Those poor people out there, they are even less happy now. Taking shelter under awnings. The more skittish drivers have just pulled over to wait it out. You start the coffee, call in sick. There's now a river on Market Street. So this is what they meant by 'storm.' more ›

How would you describe this summer? It's been pretty typical, as they say. Lots of dense morning fog that becomes afternoon fog and sometimes burns off at 3 p.m. and sometimes doesn't burn off at all, leaving you grimacing out of windows, trudging sullenly out of the office, driving you to drink. Drinking, of course, solves nothing, but you can pretend for an hour or two that your job is satisfying enough, that the lack of sunlight hasn't really gotten to you, and that remakes of Charlie's Angels on TV and Footloose on the big screen are not sad examples of Hollywood's desperation and dwindling creative talent. more ›

Memorial Day might have been mildly disappointing, but now, suddenly, the air is thick with awe and possibility. Summer. For the first time in eons, it might not be so foggy on the Fourth that you won't be able to see fireworks unless you're on top of them, down at the Embarcadero. It might even be, like, warm. And roasted corn is starting to sound pretty good, maybe a strawberry salad -- still a little early for good tomatoes. You've started making a mix tape. And there's a solar eclipse tonight, which is going to appear as a big, bright new moon, perfect for making out on doorsteps, and splaying out in public parks. more ›

Red sky at night, sailor's delight. Red sky at morning, sailor take warning. But rain in late June? Jesus christ. We're really getting sick of this. And pretty much every winemaker in a hundred mile radius is shitting in their pants right now because the last thing they need for a decent grape crop is rain. It's bad enough that they're three or four weeks behind in the growing cycle because of the cold rainy spring we had -- meaning they'll be harvesting way late, well into October in most cases, putting them in danger of running up against the first fall rains which can halt ripening and bring on rot. more ›

Maybe you're in a singing-and-dancing-in-the-rain kind of mood. That's nice for you. There's a shit-ton of it on its way tonight, so that should make you awesomely happy. Get out those rubbers, a hat you don't especially care about, and a jaunty umbrella that's sturdy enough to support a few leaping heel-claps, and have yourself a swell time. The rest of you, hunker down. Our little La Nina winter isn't through with us yet, and the rain this weekend is set to shatter former June rain records set in 1967 and 1884. Yes, people, it was fucking 1884 the last time we had 2.5 inches of rain in June, and the storm that's a'comin may bring a lot more than that. So buy yourself some bourbon, line up those DVDs you've been meaning to watch, and try not to get too stir crazy. Take a spin around the block in just a t-shirt, pretending it's an East Coast summer rain if you must. The world's weird weather isn't likely to let up, but we promise the sun will come back next week. more ›

Maybe you took a four-day weekend and drove up the coast, got a welcome reminder of the landscape that's so close, yet seems so far from the city for reasons that must have to do with brain maps and the incongruities of such dramatic shifts in topography. Maybe you saw a whale spout hundreds of feet below you as you drove home down Route 1, still a little sluggish from all that beef and Beefeater, while fields of grass undulated all around. Maybe you spent the weekend cleaning house, went to a friend's roof for a barbecue, ran into an ex and found out you can actually be civil with each other now, almost cool even. Or maybe you raged all weekend in a rented house in Tahoe, or Calistoga, or Big Sur. But now it's gone, that time past, the sad unpacking still left to finish, and the goddamn sun still won't come out because San Francisco is just like that, and it even has the gall to drizzle rain today. Whatever. It's almost time for lunch. more ›

Consider this your rest period. A break in the clouds. It may not be as warm as you'd like, but when is it ever? It also may not be as calm, or as unencumbered. Your expectations are all that stand between you and enjoying today, and this weekend. There's a storm on its way, which could be either terrible or exciting depending on how you cast it. There's probably one or two things you could be doing around the house. Call your mother. Brush the cat. And by late next week we'll have May back again, or whatever it is we hope May to be — the sun, the warmth, etc. It's looking like a mixed bag from here on out. A little more rain to come before summer, such as it is. But be patient. And if you really wanted it to be gorgeous and 72 degrees every day, you'd live in L.A. And what fun would that be? more ›

It's funny how things seem to slow down. You step outside when the wind's died down, the sun actually hot like it only ever is in May and September here (with a few exceptions), and everything feels less urgent. The cars seem to drift through intersections at a new pace. The tourists are happy to find California just as it should be. And even though the world has always been brutal, the air electric and sharp, and there has been much to mourn for as long as mournful creatures have roamed the earth, you can take it today. You'll be glad when the wind picks back up and it's time for wine. And know the trees are soaking it all in too. more ›

In the Eastern Orthodox church, the Monday after Easter is known as Bright Monday or Renewal Monday. It won't be that bright today, probably. You'll feel a need for a hot lunch, and any escape from tedium you can find. Renewal will arrive in some form, perhaps after lunch, perhaps not until you've had a good night's sleep (because Sunday nights are never easy). Part of the Easter Monday tradition in Roman Catholic countries in days of yore involved dousing people with leftover holy water, brought home on Easter to bless the house and food. This drizzly, despondent rain feels far from holy, but those succulents in the backyard are drinking it up, getting ready for the dry months. And those urine-smelly stairs at the BART station could always use a good soak. UPDATE: So, actually, it's turned into a Bright Monday after all. Our bad. more ›

You don't need anyone telling you how to feel. You just got caught in a downpour, even though a break in the clouds was clearly visible out toward the beach, and you don't need someone to say 'this too shall pass.' That is a given, and a cliché, and you've already changed into your gym shoes. It's a day for practical solutions and moving on, for dusting off that person you were at fifteen, still tender at the slightest criticism, but stubborn, stupidly idealistic, and quick to laugh. Nothing seemed too grandiose, except maybe being President, and who'd really want that job? But also, you'd never been kissed, and you didn't know what death was, or how awful and amazing freedom could be once you had a car and a job and some time to yourself. You could drop everything right now and drive to Reno, you know, consequences be damned. The Truckee River is roaring, we hear. You can at least plan dinner. Something simple, but rich and filling. You can still do a few of the things you set out to do. It's not too late, and look, the clouds are already breaking. more ›

It's going to be one of those unremarkable weeks when you're never sure if you'll need a jacket in an hour, and when remarkable events always seem just around the bend. It'll hover just shy of 60 degrees, things your mother told you about appreciating your youth will hover just above your everyday inner monologue, and the sun will poke out and then get hazed over again several times over while you're at lunch. Take comfort in who you've found, and if you're waiting to find someone, they may not arrive until next week, when it might be sunnier. And if you're going to Coachella, for god's sake, don't blow your whole wad on Saturday and end up one of those pathetic souls splayed out on the grass, unable to enjoy the onslaught of music in thirty-minute increments. You still have The National and Kanye and PJ to look forward to on Sunday. Live a little, but not that much, and try to stay hydrated. Humans (and big grassy lawns) were never meant for the desert. more ›

Things have normalized. Nothing extraordinary in the news besides the usual extraordinary violence and ordinary scandal. Your allergies are acting up in the wake of all this heat. The plants are happy. The breeze is cool, the sky a might bit cloudy. All your Aries friends are being their usual, slightly pushy, over-confident selves and that last birthday dinner you went to was stupidly expensive. The forecast for Thursday is rain, so you'd better enjoy this dry calm while it lasts. Music recommendations for today: "Les Fleurs" by Minnie Ripperton, "Blue Tulip" by Okkervil River; "Everywhere" by Fleetwood Mac; "Another Spring" by Nina Simone. more ›

She really did it to you this time. You're tangled in damp sheets, feet touching, barely able to move. Between the sun and the temperature of this room and the way she kissed your neck and sucked on your earlobe right near the end there, you're spent. But happy. It had been way too long since you had a day and a night and a morning like this, and you still feel kind of high. That margarita really hit the spot so you had three, and so did she, and here you are, back in this bed where you spent so many nights two months and several years ago. But it feels right, as cliché as that sounds. You're going with it. You don't dare say anything for fear of breaking the spell. Because she always seemed too good to be true, more than you deserved -- as silly as that sounds -- and maybe now you have another shot. "I missed you," she says, and you reach over and pull her hip to yours, and think how nice summer's going to be now that the world's getting warmer. more ›

After a long and dream-filled winter, the hoary marmot emerges from its deep burrow having burned away, in sleep, whatever fat reserves he had accumulated last summer. It's a new dawn, now, finally a new year, because all those dreary wet months hardly counted. (The marmot had, naturally, popped out for a peek at the early thaw in January, curious as to why there was so much foot traffic to and from Dolores Park so soon after Epiphany.) There's time now for everything, and scraping the sleep from his eyes he's ready to eat again, and hunt, fall in love, and lie listless in the grass wondering how the sky ever got to be so goddamn blue. more ›

The next two days will be like sisters, both pretty enough, sure, but always aware that other people saw one as an obvious improvement on the other. Today, the older sister, was never comfortable being sunny all the time. She could be known to bring a chill with her into any room, and she was no stranger to gin. Tomorrow, well, everyone always liked her best no matter how much she told them to appreciate Today. Her clothes fit just a little better, and she had that magnetic quality that could pull everyone in a room into orbit around her. She might arrive veiled in a few clouds, but she'll be glowing like a Southern California bombshell by mid-day. more ›

Ah, you said, opening the shade on this almost-blue-skied morning after what's seemed like weeks of endless dreariness, this is more like it. But alas, by noon things should cloud pretty well over again, and by evening you'll be back in that dusty doorway, smoking your damp cigarette with your trench coat pulled tight and fedora down over your eyes like Bogie as the drizzle returns and no one will return your calls. Come tomorrow morning, there's another chance of thunder, and an excellent possibility that any outdoor weddings or concerts will be tented, or canceled. more ›

The grayness and wetness is expected to continue today, with thunderstorms possible this afternoon. Also, a chance of hail, and a 90% chance of Camus-esque malaise. Music recommendations: Band of Horses, Elliott Smith, June Christy, Joan Armatrading. Tomorrow: breezy, with the faintest hope of sunlight, and satisfaction. more ›

... You knew you'd be paying later, right? Today, gray and drizzly with a 70% chance of depression. Tomorrow, some middling relief on the horizon with partial sun — still a chance of rain, though! Don't let that joy get out of hand. And hunker down for another wet and Billie Holiday-prone weekend. more ›

We've lived in the Bay Area a pretty long time, but there still seems to be perennial confusion over the El Niño/La Niña cycle — like what year we're in, when the last one was, and what it all means. The Chron and the Sac Bee help us out today, and here are a couple of bullet points to get you through: more ›