The puppy's beginning to think his name is "Oh Walter". (And yes, that's drywall dust on the floor.) (Again.)
The between week of the holidays is always busy here as both Angelenos and out-of-towners head west (well, south) for the beach. Traffic gets tricky, parking gets scarce, and very pale people in bathing suits brave the chilly surf.
Here's the Point Dume headlands this morning, sand and water churned by santana winds.
Even with little rain, the giant coreopsis are waking up, summer brown giving way to winter green, and soon enough, our yearly flood of gold.
I don't know why but the water off the headlands always has more layers of blue than other places:
All morning long, persistent, insistent, a clan of sea lions (males molting, females close to giving birth) bellowed.
And look -- that's the last remnant of last night's fog, shredded and shoved aside by these wild winter winds.
The Malibu Inn, the funky beachside cafe where Dave and I celebrated the close of escrow on our Paradise Cove
trailer mobile home back in the day, has changed and changed and changed again over the years. And while a crew was hard at work this week for the new(est) lease holder, the wind did a bit of re-arranging on the sign offering up (r)etail space for rent.
Already 72 degrees here at sunrise, wind on the move, horizon scraped clean.
A sailboat bobbed:
Palm trees leaned:
And for a little minute, everything went pink.
Here's the lake just two days ago, aka 'last fall':
And here's the lake this morning, on the first full day of winter.
Aka 'it's 34 degrees so go home put your jammies back on and get back in bed with the crossword'.
It's the winter solstice, at 9:11 a.m. to be precise.
Here's the (bird-filled) sunrise--
The sun moves fast and low across the sky today--
...delivers us into the longest night of the year.
Tomorrow's skies will be brighter for just a tiny bit longer.
Happy (true) New Year.
I'm pleased to report that somehow--
...a tree here in the now-brown mountains:
...didn't get the memo:
...re: done = dun.
The white-tailed kite I've been watching for the last few years up at the bluff now has a mate.
Judging from how interested the crow are, she must be someone famous.
Maisie and Walt each had a Kodak moment on the walk this morning and because, well, just because, actually, I have decided to share.
Walt having a glamour moment:
27 degrees, that is.
The morning that this happened:
This (frozen lake, ducks land, drake belly flops on the ice, skids to a stop) happened:
Bedroom number two of three went from bad:
Can you tell he's standing on THE GROUND?
After which this actually looked great:
A few weeks ago I showed you this:
And now, with the jack-and-jill door to the bathroom gone (that's the door to the closet in the photo) the drywall up, the hardwood down, and the walls primed and ready for paint, it's this:
I hear angels singing.
Not quite feeling the holiday spirit? A nighttime visit to The Grove will take care of that.
Zillions of twinkly lights?
Grinchy thoughts banished by the spectacle?
If, as you look at the sky in the photo, you picture the frigid core of a calving iceberg, you'll get a sense of your shivering (22 degrees in the mountains when we took our walk, a bit warmer at the beach when we got this shot, but honestly? Not much...) photog.
And to anyone reading from a colder place, feel free to laugh out loud. It warms the air.
The little lake here in the mountains has been rimmed with ice the last few mornings. (I can't even think about what's been happening to the bougainvillea since the thermometer started taking its nightly dive into the 20s.)
About an hour after this walk in the woods, Walter George "Huck Finn" Clooney chewed up a roll of super-absorbent paper towels. Twelve hours later, symptoms (I'll spare you) ensued. We're now waiting for the vet to call back.
Update Pupdate: The details continue to be disgusting but the gist is, Walt (unlike the bank account) is going to be OK.
One minute the fog was belly-to-the-ground, the next it lifted, shreds and spirals drifting into sky so bright you had to blink, blink again.
A little weather?
A bit of rain?
COLD weather, with freezing rain, and more to come.
We knew it was cold when the heater, which is set to 55 degrees overnight, kicked on at 3 a.m. What wasn't quite clear until heading out with the dogs after sunrise was exactly how cold it had gotten in the Santa Monica Mountains last night.
How cold, you ask? This cold:
Makes that frost and snow advisory from the National Weather Service spring to life.
It's been a few weeks since we checked in on the
chuckleheads dogs. They were racing around like maniacs the other evening and I don't think there's a single photo that's actually in focus.
First, they hear something. Deer, I think.
Then they catch the scent.
They're out there, Walt's sure of it.
You know who else is out there?
She's not putting up with any crap, though.
So Walt backs off and the pair of them patrol, keeping the woods safe for one more day.
And btw, Miss Maisie is celebrating her 8th birthday today.
She has expressed a birthday wish:
I didn't think I caught a shot of the little alligator, and from the angle here, you can tell I very nearly didn't.