Only five seconds because the camera battery died. This particular game of tag lasted for a good five minutes.
Also, happy birthday to Walt today, who just turned 6.
The USS Lake Champlain arrived in Malibu for a four-day visit and the Navy and the pier thew a little party.
An afternoon of wild weather here at the coast with racing clouds, pounding rain, thunder, lightning, and hail the size of marbles. At one point during the deluge the sun came out and an entire cloud turned into a rainbow.
Here's the bluff at dusk tonight, sun sinking, colors surging, birds calling as they hurried home.
Not too surprising that after the rains the ponds at Pepperdine are filled to overflowing. Also pretty great are all the waterfowl who have been dropping by, cormorants and egrets and herons, terns and gulls and plovers, a few geese, who often cause a bit of a ruckus, and some beautiful varieties of ducks, their plumage color-blocked like abstract paintings.
I loved the rain, the sound and scent and the relentless abundance of it, but sunlight has been pretty nice, too. And really, can you believe how incredibly green everything is? I swear you can hear things growing.
It's not just the clothes and the pier that are from a bygone era. Long before before the oil rigs went in and and the breakwater went up, Long Beach had actual surf.
A low-lying low-flying fringe of clouds the other day, wind-borne frontrunners of the newest storm, though with this grand procession of winter weather it's hard to tell whether they're leading or following.
Wet animals turn out to be a sub-theme of this blog which, let's face it, is really just a long long loooooooooong love letter to Malibu. Happy Valentines Day!
Wet coyote:
Wet hawk:
Wet hummingbirds:
Wet spiders:
Wet parrots:
And of course, a wet Labrador. (That's the late great Maisie.)
Part of the (endless) heartbreak of the Woolsey Fire is that so many of these sweet and beautiful ground-dwelling birds were killed. So it was thrilling to catch a glimpse of several quail families going about their daily business at the Point Dume Headlands.
Between cloudbursts yesterday we braved the cold (oh hush) to find the sky above the bluff filled with hawks, four of them, soaring and wheeling and hunting, doing far better than the photog at staying steady and upright in the winter wind. Here's one of them.
This is from yesterday as yet another front moved through. I know a lot of you are tired of the rain but after years of drought, in this house we're still loving it.
Turn your back to PCH and the built world falls away. It's just the brightest blue and green, so vivid it's almost disorienting.
We're a week or so away from the annual display. Enough buds and greenery to be heartening, enough plants lost to drought to be heartbreaking.
Eye to eye with a little hawk hunting at the Point Dume headlands.
I love how he dips his head to get a closer look.
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