I love the foggy marine layer that comes in off the Pacific Ocean in central California. Over the time we’ve spent here in the last year, we often find ourselves speaking of it as though it were a person, like some cross between a mythical creature and a grumpy but lovable townie. It’s always present in some way; if not immediately engulfing us, then waiting and hovering on the horizon over the sea. Will it let the sun in today, we wonder? Will it crawl eerily up the mountain as we race against the light to get home? Should we bring a sweater to protect against the damp cold it brings? Or will it disappear for days at a time, leaving us wondering after it and missing its chilly, slithering form as it makes its way across the landscape?