The beach here juts out so it's just a few steps from the porch to a view of Point Dume:

Where the sun sets:

Every single day.

Which should be the horizontal line, the sand or the waves? And while you're deciding, a dose of Dramamine might not be a bad idea.

It was just me and this egret on the beach the other day.

It was rainy but not nearly as cold as it is right now.

The egret found time for a bit of grooming.

And then went off in search of lunch.

A suspected kidnapper escaped from police last night and still hasn't been caught. Here's the story, from the Malibu Patch site. But all I have to contribute is a shot of the morning sky.

Full disclosure -- yes, the sun was out while I got these shots, but only for an instant.

A moment later the clouds converged and the rain came down--

And the Tiny Labrador confiscated the umbrella.

They call it Arlington West, a temporary memorial set in the sand from dawn until dusk each Sunday just north of the Santa Monica pier.

It's the work of the group, Veterans for Peace:

They measure the monument, smooth the sand, then place crosses for members of the American military who have died while serving in Afghanistan or Iraq. As the numbers grew, the group switched to red crosses, each of which represents 10 deaths.

Each month, the number of crosses grows.

No matter how often I watch, I laugh.

I think it's partly that this is where the stream of warm air from the heater--

...meets the two-hour block of morning sun--

But, perilous as it seems, this is Miss Patsy's favorite spot on a chilly day.

And who am I to agrue with the wisdom of an 18-year-old feline?

There's talk of rain this weekend and the skies here say, yes:

So we're on the beach, tide kind of high, when suddenly, in the surf line, black and round and shiny, a seal.

We stop and watch a while, smile and wave and say hello, then move on.

And so does he. (She?) Follows us as we head up the beach on our evening walk.

And I'm thinking, cool, the seal can see me, nature girl, and we're communicating.

Magic, right?.

Until I turn my head a bit, see what, black and round and shiny, the seal was actually looking at, was keeping pace with all along.

Le sigh.

The beach here vanishes when the tides get high enough, so our neighbor to the north has come up with this solution to keeping his boat at the ready:

I still haven't figured out quite how to best photograph it:

And since I'm obsessed with the blue of it, you'll probably be seeing it again.

Just saying.

It's already 75 degrees here and it's not even noon. In January.

Based on what happened to PCH yesterday, which is to say, gridlock, if you're thinking of a day at the beach, better stock up on snacks and music and something to read. In your car.

You guys? I made an offer on this place. A total fixer.

Fingers crossed.

The lawn at Bluffs Park is one of the Little Dog's favorite places and we often end the work day there. (Yes, Maisie works. Do you think all those gophers just friend her on Facebook?)

It's a great spot to lie down in the setting sun, to feel the crust and the curve of the earth. It's also great, apparently, for canine face time.

The Muffinhead sets herself just so, able to monitor both her dozing human, and the far, far reaches of the park.

She's usually camera shy, but ignores me when I'm shooting upside down. (And hasn't figured out the 'rotate' function on Photoshop yet.)

Of course there's a price to pay for such diligence:

(Ignore the "throw the ball" command at your own peril.)

If you're a fan of tiny Labradors with freakishly long tongues, there's a payoff as well.

See?

What else did I shoot a million more than one photo of yesterday in that magical light?

Tiny birds:

And this big shell.

We used to see lots and lots of them before the last El Nino.

Now, not so many. So I put this guy into a tide pool. Safe, for one more day, anyway.

I suppose this photo:

...looks just like this photo:




Fair enough. They were shot just steps (and moments) apart.

But the light was so, well, lit up, I kept shooting.

And then the sun came.

We've had a series of super-low tides that leave wide swathes beach just wet enough to capture imprints, and just dry enough to preserve them.

Add in the way light from the setting sun kind of skims across the sand this time of year and for a moment or two, everywhere you look, bird glyphs.

Visiting a friend who works in the office of a council member at LA City Hall last week (it was during the day, but the only good photo I have of the place is this one, shot at night, from an LA Times building balcony) when she asked, have you ever been to the Observation Deck?

The answer was "no", so we rode three elevators to get to the 26th floor, walked up some stairs, and then there we were, on the tippy top deck, a small, high square from which you get 360 degrees of the city.

The downtown high-rises (that's the LA Times building at the center bottom, from where the top photo was shot) kind of glittered.

And in each direction there were maps showing you some of what you're seeing:

There's the Hollywood sign:

And because of all this cold and windy weather (look -- Union Station!) my favorite view, of the San Gabriel Mountains, looked like this:

Let's get that building out of the way:

Ahhh...

Walking at the lake the other day and there, at the top of the stairs, this coyote.

He didn't move, didn't run, just stood there and watched us. (Maisie, meanwhile, had to be restrained from whatever it is she's trying to do when she takes off after coyotes -- chase them? Join them? Beg for poop?)

It took a few rounds of "shoo!" and some hand clapping to get him to leave. Which he did, finally, regally, and oh so very slowly.

What more needs to be said?

Remember that storm last week? As it cleared, you could see what looked like twin twisters reaching down to El Segundo in the South Bay.

But just the words 'El Segundo' give it away -- it's the Hyperion Treatment Plant, and the Scattergood Generating Station, becoming one with the clouds.

It's a year ago today that we lost Jake, and this afternoon, Dave and I are scattering his ashes. He was a great dog, and all of you have been great about putting up with repeated posts about how much he's been missed around here.

Maisie in particular has been bereft, and just as we once got a tiny Labrador to help lonely Jake, I'm now thinking about a puppy (it has to be a puppy; Patsy the cat is 18 and is retired and she wouldn't be OK with a grown dog) for the Tiny Labrador. Or maybe a kitten. Or maybe both. (That thunk you just heard is a very nice French woman fainting in her house in St. Thomas.)

We're combing the shelters and rescue groups and trusting the same serendipity that brought us Jake and Evinrude and Patsy and Maisie will kick in once again.

You'll be the first to know.

There's today's pink horizon:

With the backlit pier:

And -- big fave -- sailboat sihouette:

I love them all, tire of them never.

Coming soon -- gull in flight   pelican diving   dolphin fin   ___________ fill in the blank.

Last time Maisie went to stay with Nick! while I was out of town, he sent me a video of her. And a tiny pig ran through it.

Oh, Nick! said. Didn't I mention? I got a pig.

Her name is Blue. (Well, Bleu, actually.)

And Bleu and the Muffinhead are the best of friends. (Sorry, we were facing right into the sun and Bleu was on the move and I was afraid to miss the shot so it's pretty awful.)

Seriously, a tiny pig.

And she stands on her tiptoes.

You'll see it out there, a white blob bobbing, and then suddenly, the egret stands up.

It's a fragile-looking bird, long legs, long wings, white as a wedding veil, and the fact it's balanced on that bit of kelp, fishing from the seaweed's float of fronds and bulbs, well, that seems like magic.

It was the moon and me on the beach this morning:

Kind of shocked that it's 2013.

A seal swam by:

And things turned silver:

Then gold:

And blue:

And deep in the clouds, a hidden pink.

One of the things I miss most about Santa Fe is the old Woolworth's store right on the Plaza.

But in the Five & Dime that took over the space (this is the original sign from the Woolworth's days; the ampersand makes all the difference, doesn't it?) the spirit lives on.

Let's shop!

For cowboy hats and place mats and sombreros:

For postcards:

And mugs:

And kitschy western-themed toys:

If you've been paying attention, a seductive scent has been drawing you, step by savory step, to the back of the store.

And no, it's not the nacho cheese machine, not the burgers or the hot dogs:

Frito Pie!

Served in its own bag, as God intended.

Cash only.

Those were the days...

The first hum of light from the front porch:

A bit brighter as we reach the beach:

Good morning, Los Angeles...

It's not the nap, it's the Bloomies bag:

Let's empty the Santa Fe photo album, shall we?

Here's sunset over the mesa at my friends Maggie (oh, her flowers!) and Bill's house in the mountains:

A minute later, it snowed. Again.

The snow stopped...

And you'd think you could leave your coat unbuttoned on such a sunny day.

You'd be wrong.

So we joined the crowd in the Cathedral Basilica of St. Francis of Assisi.

And angels watched over us.

Can you smell it yet?

The green chile at Pasqual's?

Oops.

We took a walk between snowfalls on the last day of 2012:

...where the eastern side of the Sandia Mountains looked like this:

...and like this:

...and for the briefest of moments, while pirouetting on a sheet of ice, like this.