South-facing beaches here, so while it's confusing each time you try to tell someone which direction they're headed on PCH, the bonus is the sunrise:
I'll think I understand the impulse behind falconry and then a wild hawk appears and it turns out that no, I don't really get it at all.
Eighty-eight degrees at sunset last night, not much better right now at dawn. Santa Ana season, and we're bedeviled by these devil winds.
We were first to Solstice Canyon this morning but we weren't alone. If you've ever been, maybe glanced behind you a time or two as the eeriness sank in then you know what it's like to be there, ushered along as the wind rises, whines and winds around you, as a thousand leaves shift and the sun stalls and every canyon ghost story you've ever heard about how this is one of the 'thin places' of the earth feels inevitably right and true.
Incremental signs of progress at Casa de LOUD! as we move in some rugs and furniture and even unpack a book.
Well that was an unexpected surprise, a tiny bit of rain with a side of power outage and -- sweet bonus -- the ocean a deep and denim blue.
Someone's pretty happy right about now...
(Plaschke's column is good but the video is on autoplay. So annoying.)
Remember this, the spectacular bloom of giant coreopsis that covers Point Dume each year in February?
These days it's this, dormant as it waits for winter rain:
As the internets go full Mad Hatter over Bob Dylan today, let's spend a moment with the Nobel laureate's caretaker's cat, who was a regular visitor to my friend Hope's house.
And if this election is getting to you, there's the nuttiness of the story Bob Poole did a few years back about Dylan's rogue port-potty.
Throwback Thursday: The cat belonging to the caretaker of Bob Dylan's Point Dume property. Shot on May 8, 2008.
It's almost embarrassing how much your dog knows about you from just a single inhale. Their sense of smell is at least ten THOUSAND times more acute than ours, which is why they can sniff out bombs and drugs and even the beginnings of melanoma growing on your skin. (Of course that makes their need to coat themselves with dead seagull at the beach all the more baffling.)
Still, it's a fascinating topic that'll be in the news for a bit thanks to Alexandra Horowitz's latest book, "Being a Dog", which is all about the miracles and mysteries of the canine nose. She did a great interview on Fresh Air that'll destroy forever any illusions you may have that you've managed to sneak a cookie in the kitchen with your dog none the wiser.
Calm and quiet and blessedly cool at the beach this morning, just us and some gulls and a single kayaker as the sun rose.
In Bluffs Park this morning when a pair of hawks, small ones, flew by. They moved in unison, low over the underbrush, banking and veering and changing leads. It happened so fast that honestly it was pure dumb luck that I got the camera out and pointed and focused just as the second hawk vanished from view.
There were three of these kitties in different places around town but one recently got painted over. I'll try to catch the remaining one before it's gone.
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