Lunch and Kites at Crissy Field

Lunch first, at a patio table down in San Francisco with a wall of croton behind us, and a kite in its bag sitting on the table the whole meal like an agenda item. My daughter colored the paper placemat and mugged over the salt shakers while we waited on food.

Then out to Crissy Field, the old Army airfield between Mason Street and the Bay, which stays a kite spot for the obvious reason: the wind off the water never quits. The kite went up fast and stayed up, a small rainbow diamond way out over the line of parked cars along Mason, with Alcatraz sitting flat and gray behind them.

She took a turn holding the string, hair blowing across her face, more interested in the line itself than in where it went. The grass out there is big enough that nobody's kite crowds anybody else's.