Can't tell whether this is a cryptic pro-bovine plate with meaning beyond my abilities to unscramble, or merely the DMV computer making a numeric fresh start.
Some days here in Malibu you bump into acquaintances everywhere you go. Yesterday, they all happened to be animals.
It's santana season and, despite the dodge and feint of recent rains, the winds are here, howling.
Are we sensing a theme?
Not sure why having to stand there and breathe in fumes as you fill your gas tank makes the EPA happy, but the days of the 'self-holding nozzele' in Malibu are (inconvinience!) over.
That's my mobile home back in 1973, when the original owners towed it into place and planted the original landscaping. Over the years someone built an addition on the side, someone else added ugly aluminum siding (which we painted a nice, peaceful green), the height of those cool slanted railings became too low for the new building code, and the fab old VW was replaced by a Prius.
Though the railings on the house are new, and we've changed the front steps so they face the street, the floor of the deck is the original clear-heart redwood, reclaimed and re-sanded and still strong and beautiful.
Oh -- and check out the succulents and the tree in the first photo. They're still here, huge now, and a sweet connection to the beginnings of this seaside house.
That's what the street here looked like in 1973, before the upper level of the Cove was finished.
And here's the same view of the same street today.
We had a horizon filled with blue today, though blue isn't quite the right word and neither is violet, though I suppose that comes close. It felt like a hundred cellos all playing the same string, a low E, maybe.
The clouds are low here and everything is wet, including the dogs. No, especially the dogs and, in particular, Maisie, who has never met a soggy tennis ball she didn't love.
I took a clipping from a Cup of Gold vine growing at Barbra Streisand's barn at the end of Ramirez Canyon and 15 years later, it has pretty much taken over the side courtyard with fleshy blooms that look, well, feral.
One of Maisie's contractual duties here in Malibu is to make sure you're OK. Yes, you.
So if you were on a hike, say, and maybe took a moment to lie down in the grass, the tiny Labrador would be right there, taking her work very, very seriously.
Up in the hills it was hot, 80 degrees, a tiny breeze sweet with the scent of sage, baking. Down in the flats it was cool and damp, time for a flannel shirt. Same story today.
Laughed out loud when a friend pointed out this sign at a West Hollywood pool. With everything so crazy these days, 'don't hold your breath' seems like universally good advice.
Have I ever showed you this photo of Paradise Cove in the olden days, when it really was just a bunch of trailers parked at the beach? When we first moved here 16 years ago (omg really??) some of those original trailers were still in place, for sale for about $30,000. Imagine.
We had a moment of blue skies yesterday afternoon as that storm rolled through, and a kinda sorta sunrise this morning. Right now, this very second (as Jake snores on the couch and Maisie's short legs pump frantically in a vivid running dream) it's brilliantly and unambiguously sunny.
It rained like mad all night, a steady drumming on the roof that kept deep sleep just out of reach. This morning, the creek ran high, had breached the sand berm and carved a channel five feet deep as it hit the Pacific.
Stay away from the water, surfers. Why?
Everything here seems to be waiting as the storm rolls through. (I'm waiting for the warm and sunny weekend.)
The Malibu branch of the LA County library, which was fine, not fabulous but perfectly adequate (and unlike so many branches around LA County, open all day, six days a week) is closed. Not for lack of funds, mind you but for, of all things during these lean times, remodeling. Sigh.
Everything today feels a bit too loud and a bit too bright, moves a little too fast, so I'm taking refuge here, in the rough fence and furled rose and the infinities of white on white on white.