Dust that tells
Spreckels dust files the toe the hour the fog finally lifts.
The plat refuses to ink a face that arrived powdered from a south-valley range and call it an orchard row.
Fog lets a hot row look even. Dust will not. Ynez asks which hour you actually play before she lets Piet pick up the comb.
If you split time between a watered municipal and the Pinnacles, say so. Two hours can mean two plats. We would rather ink two beds than pretend one pitch serves both.