Throwback Thursday: Vintage postcard of the City of Angels in 1873. That's Spring Street down the middle, along with Main Street and something called 'Fort Street'. And yes, a bit of Marie Kondo-ing has been taking place around here.
As we flirt with a chance-of-rain weather system that may be headed our way, the ocean here moves into winter mode.
Finally, a chance to use this photo of Daisy trying to control her human with her mind. (Food food food walk walk food food coyotes head scratch.)
Post-fire even the most developed neighborhoods in Malibu have seen an influx of wild animals, including raptors.
The post-rain ponds are full and the shore birds are back, fishing and sunbathing and keeping a wary eye out for photogs.
Relief from stormy grey-on-grey comes only at night, light fractured by mist and rain, a shattered and grudging rainbow.
No snow-covered mountains for us here at the coast. Instead, it's freshly-trimmed palm trees backed by a scrim of storm clouds.
No parking when we arrived so no chance to check out the progress of the giant coreopsis, which will bloom sometime in February. The clouds and colors on the horizon, however, were spectacular.
Everything about this latest round of rain, from the predicted procession of chilly storms to the fog bank obscuring the mountain passes is, for the first time in several years, old-school Southern California winter.
Something about the shapes of the clouds and the tilt of the sunlight and today felt like a walk through a painting.
And Daisy wants you to know that post-Christmas groceries are not the least bit (no bacon) interesting.
With rain on the way it's easy to decide that it's time to un-decorate the tree, which for weeks has majestically supported scores of ornaments and hundreds of incandescent (sorry, LEDs, but your colors are not quite right) lights. The removing is always faster than the placing and just as the storm arrived, the tree returned to its spot outside, soon sparkling again, but this time with winter rain.
It was beautiful while it lasted and we look forward to the Monterey pine's next indoor visit, just 11 months from now.
Yes, many of the burn areas here are turning green again but so far it's due to the return of non-native grasses. Whether the oaks and sage and sycamores, the vervain and penstemon and blue-eyed grass, the cacti and clovers and phlox and wild roses and hundreds of other California natives can recover from a wildfire that burned so hot it literally denuded the mountains, burned them to a degree that has shocked virtually everyone, remains to be seen.
In addition to the freshest calendar page of the year, today brought a pod of whales (you can seethe tiny white puffs of their exhales) on the horizon. We strolled with them along the bluff, watched until they vanished south.