OK, this photo isn't spring in Malibu, but last month in San Francisco with Dano. I didn't have a Spring Photo.... tee hee...:)
Sunday. 70 degrees and breezy. The pussycat rolling in the sun. A freshly bathed labrador drying on the deck. Bob Dylan. The blue flowers that bloom so profusely on the Malibu chapparal are in full throttle. Every waft of the breeze brings that honeysuckle-esqe fragrance past my nose; it makes me dizzy with hope and joy. No bustle. Mountains and blue sky, ancient oaks soaking up the sunshine.
Spring in Malibu.
This first day of the season never ceases to open every pore in my body. Pretty birds singing their little hearts out; the ugly squaking winter crows have thankfully flown the coop.
After every fire, the rest of the world wonders why we live here. It's a day like today that makes it all worth it. Indescribable heaven.
All is well. Everything is possible.
Spring in Malibu.
This first day of the season never ceases to open every pore in my body. Pretty birds singing their little hearts out; the ugly squaking winter crows have thankfully flown the coop.
After every fire, the rest of the world wonders why we live here. It's a day like today that makes it all worth it. Indescribable heaven.
All is well. Everything is possible.
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