The Symphony of San Francisco’s Skies
San Francisco stirred to life under a blanket of low-hanging clouds, their edges tinged with the faintest hint of gold as the sun struggled to pierce the marine layer. The morning air was crisp, carrying with it the briny scent of the Pacific Ocean and the faint aroma of eucalyptus from the city’s many parks. The temperature hovered at a cool 52°F (11°C), with a forecasted high of 60°F (16°C) and a low of 49°F (9°C) by nightfall. The day promised to be quintessentially San Franciscan—cool, breezy, and unpredictable, with the ever-present possibility of fog rolling in from the bay. In the predawn hours, the city was a study in contrasts. The Financial District’s skyscrapers stood like silent sentinels, their glass facades reflecting the muted light of the streetlamps below. The streets were nearly empty, save for the occasional delivery truck or early-morning jogger, their footsteps echoing against the pavement. At the Embarcadero, the bay was a sheet of glass, its surface broken ...