Here's the inside of the place I'm kind of interested in, untouched (can you see the avocado green appliances?) since 1969.

I'm thinking cottage. The dogs are thinking 'more shag carpet, please!'.

Happy weekend, everyone.

Magic.

Paradise Cove pier, winter 2012

Even if you haven't read about the mobile home in Paradise Cove that sold for its $3.95 million (no, not a typo) asking price a few days after being listed, just stroll around and you'll get the picture about the newest wave of trailer park dwellers.

Headed for the beach this morning to catch the sunrise and--

...there it was, a wet and chilly wall of May Gray. I almost cheered.

No, it won't keep the crowds from the beaches today, and yes, it's burning off even as I type, but after the weird and awful and catastrophic and just plain frightening change to our annual weather pattern here in California, a bit of appropriately timed coastal fog feels like a reprieve.

In other news -- wet dogs.

Summer, 2012.

The plan was is was is to rent for a while, to relax and unwind from this 12-month slow-motion remodel. (Pix are here and here and here and here. Oh, and here. After living through -- and in -- the reno in real time, the instant payoff of the before-and-afters is addictive.)

I've been looking at rentals, I really have. In the Santa Monica mountains around here your money goes pretty far, a two- or three-bedroom house with a yard. In Malibu, Venice or Santa Monica, the same money gets you 500 square feet over someone's garage. I wish that was an exaggeration. So the trailer above, untouched since 1969, has caught my eye. The listing agent for this place has been pretty great, letting me poke around and bring different parts of my crew to evaluate and consider.

I've said 'no thanks' a couple of times, then called back to say that actually, I'd like to show it to the plumber, the roofer, the lead carpenter. Each time the agent tells me that in fact, she just opened the house up for me to take another look. Go figure.

But I'm thinking I'll pass. It's a lot of work and a lot of time and oh my lord, the endless mess. You always run into unexpected problems, feel bad about bothering the neighbors, and in every reno there's that week when you're down to a single faucet and maybe no toilet and the only place to sit is on the pile of joint compound bags stacked between the air compressor and the table saw, so yeah, I'm going to pass.

Oops -- gotta run. The AC guy just arrived to give me a bid on the ducting.

You know how sometimes a dog's lips get dry and stick to their teeth and, well, this?

I look at the photo and can't stop laughing.

Some mornings, for a little minute, you don't hear road noise or jet sounds or even dogs barking. It's just breeze and birds and the rustle of some small busy creature earning a living in the underbrush.

This the master bath in all its 1971 trailer park glory:

And here it is now:

The house is sold and already I've found a potential new remodel because apparently I forgot that at first the second bedroom was this:

And then (we fixed the subfloor, filled in the jack-and-jill door to the 2nd bathroom, drywalled, added baseboards, painted, installed hardwood floor) it became this:

This is what passes for weather these days -- the quickest glimpse of a cloud in the sky.

Weird, right?

Here's the last of the moon, setting this morning over the Santa Monica mountains. (And, I think, a fingerprint on the lens.) (St. Veronique, the patron saint of photographers, has just ordered an early-morning shot of tequila.)

So cute so cute so cute...

If Los Angeles ever secedes from California, jacaranda against blue sky should be the new state seal.

I wish I could show the gorgeous coyote at the lake this morning, bold, agile, fur lit up in the sunrise, but since all the camera caught was a tiny Labrador's tiny derriere as she vanished in futile pursuit (the coyote laughing, I'm pretty sure), let's look at the Cove pier instead.

Ahhh.

Hot. Bright. Windy.

Hot today.

Hotter tomorrow.

I'd say this was clarkia but the foliage is wrong. And it kind of looks like wild radish, but it's not. So no name for this tiny flower, smaller than split pea, at least not yet.

*Filaree -- that's what it is. Yay!

Thank you, Liza.

These photos are as soft and fuzzy as the newest ducklings at the lake but still, ducklings!

It's wildflower season up in the hills and despite the drought, the variety is stunning. I'm kind of in love with these -- common fiddleneck? -- with their curve and their fuzz (yes, those are technical terms) and those sprays of tiny gold flowers.

Look up and it's the scrubby green of the Santa Monica mountains:

Look down and it's a different story:

The ducklings at the lake are growing so fast --

They've left that roly poly bath toy stage and are entering their awkward period, all bristling pin feathers and gangly angles.

Still adorable.

Even between moves, when everything's still in boxes (oh the life of the serial renovator) these pieces of sea glass, two of my favorites, never get packed away.

Every bit of the landscape matters to the wildlife around here, even long-dead yucca blooms.

Yikes. Ten days on the market and gone. (Of course the many delights of escrow are still to come, so fingers crossed.)

Meanwhile, how we got here. Before/after of exteriors and gardens are here. Also this one and this one of the kitchen area.

Now it's time to figure out if there's another place to buy and if not, what comes next...

We're more than a month away but the light in the sycamores says summer to me.

I know, I've shown you the kitchen a couple of times, but this time it's with the before-est of the 'before' photos I could find, so that makes it not redundant, right?

This, with the '70s-era dropped ceiling and fluorescent lights--

Is now this.

And that oversized gold window (and the tile and cabinets and linoleum and, well, everything else--)

...gone.

We took out the wall on the left and added a small support wall in the center of the house. Filled in the doorway to that front room, then shortened the wall to match the length of the opposite wall and make the kitchen into a true rectangle. (Before it was a trapezium.) (Yes, I had to google to find that word.) (The fact that it exists makes me almost as happy as the finished remodel.)