Things are back to what they were on my San Francisco street. The fog has blown in and never retreated. The day dawns gray. It departs on the same note. All is as it was.

Nonsense. For me, the early September arrival of unprecedented heat, breaking all records, has had a permanently disquieting, disorienting effect. This city’s proximity to the Humboldt Current, along with a few other geophysical factors, should make it immune to temperatures of 106°F/42°C. This shouldn’t be happening. This city shouldn’t have deaths from heatstroke. Apparently we had three in a couple of days.

A few miles north at Point Reyes, a promontory that curves out to sea, literally hooking Pacific weather…things were much more bearable. Jane and I sat beside Tomales Bay, enjoying the occasional warm breeze. What I enjoyed less was the persistent smog. This bit of coastal California is all hills, farmland and forests. Clouds blow in and out like maritime clockwork. The windswept National Seashore has some of the least climactic variation in Western America. Cool summers, temperate winters and a constantly moving air mass. Until last weekend.

This could be a political wake-up call. But this part of America is already woke. What does one do about climate change? More…is clearly the answer. How…is the question.

All I know is not to trust the fog. Yes, it’s back in town. All seems to be as it was before. It isn’t, though, and there’s no denying it. In fact, the weekend weather reminded me of the famous scene in ‘Grapes of Wrath’ in which the Joad family home is knocked off its foundation by a bulldozer. That will teach them to fall behind in their mortgage.

I’m not sure what our overheating planet is teaching me. But Something. Something.