Tonight is the Chinese Lunar Festival.
Downtown in San Francisco's Chinatown, immigrants are exchanging moon cakes and telling tales of the Ghost Maiden who escaped as an orb in the sky. Twelve miles away where I live, I can walk in a cloud. The fog of the Golden Gate has piled up along the steep bank behind our house, engulfing our neighborhood in vapor. Under the light of Lady Moon, I take a midnight hike. I wade chest-high in bleached ryegrass murmuring in the wind, and spy down the rugged coast of California.