He's alone, I think, not part of a pack, which isn't an easy life. Some mornings he's here at sunrise, tucked into a furrow left by plows that cleared the firebreak a few years back.
It's conservancy land, thousands of acres, and the little cottage sits at its very edge. There's an eight-foot fence between us and believe me, I'm grateful.
On this morning last week he had his back to us, facing the hills, but just as I lifted the camera, alerted by scent or sound or maybe both, he turned.
I love how, when the wild parrots see you looking, they give a little head twilt (yes, twilt) and look right back. (Also, those cherry-colored feathers.)
Got to the Santa Monica farmer's market right as it opened this morning. The Wednesday before Thanksgiving the place always has a different vibe, a buzzy kind of revel.
Didn't find my favorite apple vendor (short, hot season) but everyone else had beautiful stuff.
Still quiet before 8 am.
Growers still setting up:
Everything so pretty:
It's almost citrus season:
I love that buddha's hand is part of LA's Thanksgiving landscape:
If it weren't for this stack of fennel and green onions and leeks, all of today's photos would be yellow and orange.
And at Harry's Berries:
Savvy strawberry lovers got in line.
It's almost Thanksgiving!
When the drive includes this stretch of Pacific Coast Highway, emphasis on 'coast', even the dreaded Home Deport shopping experience becomes bearable.
Someone brought a hammock to the park. The whole time we were there -- about an hour -- nobody moved. Nice.
Post-winds view of Catalina and the shipping lanes:
And obtw it's hot again, 90 in the hills above Zuma, high 80s at the beach.
The temperature here crept up all night and this morning it's as though summer never left. Meanwhile the news from, well, just about anywhere right now is less than good so let's look at the view that (imho) never fails to soothe or, at the very least, smooth the rough edges.
That warm push of air brought a bit of cold weather, the horizon here on Sunday a showcase of blue and moody clouds.
You could feel the weather shift last night, warmer breeze, softer air, so morning clouds were no surprise though if they linger, that'll still feel new.
(Forgot my camera so iphone pix, even more snapshot-y than usual.)
When #Paris turned out its lights, the rest of the world turned them on.
(photo and text by Jeff Lewis on Twitter.)
The coyote was here the other morning, showing us what it looks like when the meal you're hunting makes its home underground.
I think it was a car alarm from a home below that broke his concentration.
Meanwhile, the prey had shifted.
And so, onward.
Not an easy life, no matter which side of the predator/prey equation you inhabit.
Gone but not forgotten -- HOWS Market, the '49 Plymouth, and I think that's little Maisie (still here, thank goodness) in the back seat.
Throwback Thursday: Nov. 12, 2006
If you've ever driven past the Trancas (huge fight with autocorrect, which really really wants it to be 'Trances') shopping center, you've driven past Trancas Creek. Spared from development a few years back by a group of activists, it's now the subject of ongoing talks about restoration.
Meanwhile, as with all open spaces here in Malibu, the creek has a rich and somewhat private life. It's a coyote crossing, a hiking trail, a trysting ground and a dumping ground. You'll see ducks and egrets and gulls, dogs and snakes and lizards and hawks.
We've been regulars here lately, the dogs and I, so get ready for more photos than you're likely to want to see.
And the underpass:
Writing on the walls:
And wild life:
When the El Nino rains come, the creek will rise. It'll be interesting to see what happens next.
Lately I've been setting the iso of the little point-and-shoot as low as it will go, opening the lens to let it drink in the very last of the sunset light.
Did it rain where you are this morning? Here, that chilly little weather system brought a bit of everything.
Drifting clouds (and yes, it rained):
Misty vistas (until the afternoon, when crazy winds tore through:
And a sweet sailboat bobbing in the chop.
Arrive early enough and the sign at the Westlake branch of the LA County Library casts a word shadow.
Someone has to keep an eye on the cats and squirrels who hop the fence between the neighbors' garden and our little cottage and as you can see here, Walter takes the job very seriously.
I wish I had been shooting with a better camera nine years ago when Malibu's dive bar, the Dume Room, was in its last days.
It's a Subway sandwich place now.
Throwback Thursday: The Dume Room on Nov. 5, 2006.
That's the view between storms yesterday from a spot where the beach-facing Santa Monica mountains level off and give way to the Valley.
Not even 48 degrees this morning while walking the dogs, who raced around and acted a bit nuts in the welcome chill.
Yesterday the wind howled, morning to night, as dark clouds sailed by and the occasional spit of rain made it feel like the far edge of autumn.
Meanwhile, the visitor was back, curled up and sleeping.
It's raining up north and the cool, cloudy (and with any luck) rainy goodness is headed our way. That's the beach here this morning, btw. Calendar appropriate.