Sky blue.

I have often proclaimed that I am not a Californian.  That said, I know that I would be loathe to leave the Bay Area.  It's the weather, it's the politics, it's the tolerance of the odd and unusual, it's the proximity to the ocean ...

And it's the sky.

In Florida, where I grew up, sky blue was a pale, hazy color. The light was strong, but diffuse, the blue often crowded with clouds.  Winter was the best time of year, because the humidity -- and therefore the haziness -- would diminish, leaving a clear strong blue sky behind. I loved it.

I have that sky much of the time here.

That crisp blue sky is the main reason summers here are at least bearable.  The length of days is overwhelming, and the strong light of summer afternoons floods into my brain causing sensory overload, regardless of the temperature.  The blue sky which emerges from the frequent morning gray marine layer soothes and helps calm my tortured synapses.  Those days when the sky is blue first thing in the  morning are more problematic, since no marine layer often means much heat, but at least some part of my psyche is happy for the sky.

Best of all is the early fall.  The days have not yet turned gray and rainy, and yet are shorter, the light more oblique. The afternoons are gold and cornflower, just made for football and late season baseball games.  The leaves often don't turn until after the rain starts, but days when it clears out and the leaves have changed red and gold are nirvana.

In the evenings the sky deepens, cornflower through royal blue through navy into midnight as the stars come out.  It can be almost too beautiful for words.

Plenty of reason to stay.