Like the journey itself, the photos must come to an end sometime.

Hopefully, I will make it back there for Christmas… one way or another.

The city was shy most of that week.

I still don’t know how much of the haze was fog, or mist, or smoke from the fires… or all three.

From the Berkeley Rose Garden, she peeked coyly out from behind the trees.

From higher up in the Berkeley Hills…

She kept her veil modestly in front of her…

I have always said that she is both brazen and demure…

Temptress and tease…

Brash and bashful…

Okay, I never said those things till now, but I might start saying them more often.