Remembering Humboldt

My home town is Arcata, California, deep in the redwood Empire and the County of Humboldt, set along a marshy coastline, filled to the brim with brightly painted Victorians.  In its middle is a grassy plaza with a statue of a dead president and herds of errant hippies. Up and down the coast are empty beaches that are sometimes foggy, and sometimes not, and when you are away from Humboldt, far away as I am now, you wonder if it is even real.  At least I know Robbie the dog was there with me, though I wonder if his memory of the place has also started to fade like a beach in the fog.

Was the fog coming in or out? Am i forgetting Humboldt, or just beginning to remember it?