Santa Barbara is known for its “June Gloom” and just like clockwork, it descended on June 1st like a gray, drizzling, sad blanket. Last Sunday we couldn’t take it any longer. We loaded the car and scooted over the hill to Santa Ynez (sounds a little Clark W. Griswold, minus the family trickster in metallic pea). Blueberry picking, tree climbing, burger eating and animal watching—all in blissful sunshine. Just like that (well, until the next soggy morning) it felt like summer.