I'm not sure which photo to post first -- the one that shows you how hot it is at 11 a.m. on Mulholland Highway:

Or the one the just flat-out tells you:

*And just an hour later:

Headed to the Hollywood Bowl the other night (great show, Emmy Lou Harris!), the 99 Cent Chef at the wheel, when suddenly, lawn signs for a political campaign:

I hate when people say this but seriously, only in LA.

This guy.

And with 100-plus degrees predicted for tomorrow, he's ordering in extra ice for the margaritas.

Drove Inched by the Malibu Pier today, where Surfrider Beach was wall-to-wall bodies. To which one of my favorite bands says, "Same as it ever was".

Photo of Malibu's Surfrider Beach in 1966 from the UCLA archive, via Creative Commons.

It started out cool and foggy at the beach this morning,

Everything grey and muffled.

A sailor (is that even in focus?) slept in:

A couple of egrets used the low tide to browse the sea grass:

The rising sun shredded the mist up in the hills:

And down on the beach, a certain Muffinhead actually got her feet wet.

Sometimes, you really don't want to know what they're thinking.

This one's kind of hard to see, the animal's coat and the surrounding brush being of the same palette, but though the coyote turned his back and walked oh-so-slowly away, his ears remained one hundred percent trained on us.

Didn't know that was physically possible.

Not that Ciclavia doesn't sound appealing but...

Every time I drive by, the lot is filled with cars and more are parking along PCH.

I think hikers are coming to see the strange and sere fire-blasted landscape while it lasts:

Because if we get any rain at all, it will soon be transformed.

A friend got this shot of an egret who, thanks to the rapidly evaporating lake, was able to snag a wide mouth bass.

Barbara says the bird held onto the fish for as long as it could, despite the fact it was way too big to eat. When the egret finally let the bass go, it flapped and screeched and pecked at the water, knowing the other egrets would never believe this big fish story.

Photos: Barbara Miller

Ahhh, the solstice. Summer arrives tonight, which in Malibu means this:

But also this:

And this:

And this:

And, of course, this:

First they were balls of fluff, so comical they didn't seem quite real:

Then they went and grew feathers and lo and behold, ducklettes.

And now, other than the fact they still hang out together, you really can't tell them apart from the other ducks on the lake.

Inspired by Kevin's posting of Echo Park lake back in the day, here's Paradise Cove when it was still May Rindge's cattle ranch.

That railroad trestle traverses what is now the restaurant parking lot, and that hump of land is where, after much grading, the mobile home park went in.

Wow.

There's always something beautiful up at the barn, like jacaranda blooming against blue sky.

Remember this?

Now it's this:

Even more pix! The entire garden before-and-after is here, and the faux tile project is here.

Just click on the arrow at the far right of the photo to move through each set. (And no, I'm not a fan of the Flickr re-design.)

Words to live by.

Hot and quiet, ducks all dozing, a heron hiding in the reeds.

This is the moment the sun slipped away, dipped behind the mountains and just like that, late afternoon turned early evening.

IF you were to walk up a certain dirt road just after sunrise:

...and you were to climb a certain staircase, you might reach:

...a terrace carved into a cliff above the Pacific.

There, you might find something rare:

A Malibu Potteries' sailboat tile mural, still sitting in its original wall more than 50 years later.

(Here is is again, another day, different light.)

Two of my favorite things, available only in California: bougainvillea blooming on the Malibu coast.

Looked nice, smelled even nicer:

But nothing, not even a brand new tennis ball, can persuade Maisie go in the water.

Is it the aftermath of the Springs Fire that has sent so many hawks out our way? Because up in the mountains it suddenly seems like you can't go even a few hours, let alone an entire day, without seeing or hearing one of our fierce feathered friends.

You guys? This:

...is now this:

And this:

...is now this:

A (very) small slide show is here.

Ever since state wildlife officials created a series of marine preserves along the SoCal coast, there's been a tug-of-war over one of the signs.

One day, the placard would be bent inward, the no-fishing language hidden. A few days later, someone else would unfold the sign so the maps and prohibitions were visible again.

Fold, unfold, fold, unfold, it went on for weeks, the metal of the sign wearing out and tearing and for a while, it seemed as though the unfolded version had won.

Until this fish head appeared, a pretty clear screw-you from the fishing contingent.

Meanwhile, a huge swell rolled through our bit of the coast:

There was surfing:

Some boarding:

(He's inside that wave btw.)

And a bit of duck diving:

Driving down the road to the barn and there, landing on a telephone pole, a hawk.

He's right above an enormous vegetable garden, and though it's well-tended by a couple of hired guys, the gophers are still having a good time of it.

Not for long.

Clouds (and a breeze) and a peek-a-boo view from Bluffs Park.

The Malibu Pier.

Blessedly quiet during the week:

Though out to the north a bit:

It's business surfing as usual.

Believe me when I say that photos can't do justice to the sheer size of this pair of century plants growing in some friends' front yard.

Well done, Mother (and Father) of Dragons.

Caution -- pap ratz at work. (And no, I don't know who he was spying on.)

Busy Sunday morning in downtown Malibu, what with ducklings on the pond in Legacy Park:

And egrets:

All being watched by a redwing blackbird (who swooped in and attacked an egret every time it flew near the blackbird's nest):

Watched also by this kite:

Lethal. And beautiful.

Meanwhile, over at Cross Creek, the night heron clan, at first peaceful:

And then suddenly not. (Do they literally push the fledglings out of the nest? Because seriously, what a ruckus, shouting and shoving and someone in there really didn't want to go.)

Finally, at Pepperdine, a bit of breakfast :

Then onward to face the day:

And the traffic.

The news cycle has moved on far beyond the Springs Fire, but for those if us in its vicinity, the signs are (literally) everywhere.