Smiling Copper Dragonfly

From putting Bogey, the Big Dog, inside the house, a tired and foul mooded Dog Mama turned into a world where fairies do exist.

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Addiction

I am addicted to swimming in the Pacific.

A perpetual wader, knee deep was as far as I once would go.

I float out now.

My feet cannot touch the sea floor.

At the mercy of rolling and crashing and saltwater up my nose,

Headfirst – thrust up and back – I completely surrender control.

Had I this addiction from arrival in Venice,

I might not have had sex with the wrong sort;

Like the the suicidal Indiana Catholic and the stress shattered Israeli SEAL;

Or, the divided and severed, monumentally insane, Argentinian guitarist.

Oceans hold more than weak men.

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Urban Nature III: Sun, Moon, Sky and Venice Beach

I spend a lot of time looking up. A natural dreamer, I often stare at the heavens and imagine myself there – always a different version, of course. Maybe instead of an actor, I should’ve studied to be an astronaut. Somehow, we all seem to find a way to escape around here.

Every once in awhile, no matter how much one might love Venice, you need a change of scenery. Taken atop LA, in Topanga Canyon, during a hike with one of my dearest friends, if you look really hard, there’s the Santa Monica Pier jutting into the Pacific. Venice is just to the south…

From the High Rooftop Lounge of the Hotel Erwin, a favorite spot to have a drink and watch the sun go down. Just be careful of crazy, skinny redheads who desperately need a cocktail and maybe a little something something extra.

Taken on a private rooftop, I was house sitting and enjoying the amenities.  It was back in March when the Venus-Jupiter conjunction was so visible in the night sky. Though hard to spot, the two planets are hanging out together at the top of the photo.

We had an absolutely spectacular sunset last autumn following an unusual afternoon of thunderstorms. I took about a hundred pictures and this is one of my favorite. If you look closely, you can see the eye of God – and the nose, upper lip, and maybe a little bit of His beard.

A few weeks ago, out for a late evening stroll, I snatched a waning crescent moon rising above the treetops. Ah to sleep, perchance to dream…

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Urban Nature II: Bees and Blooms

There are many things in which one might become lost while in Venice Beach. The natural beauty certainly ranks up there with the most obvious. Ocean views and sunsets, mountains to the north…all stunning…

In Venice, as in most communities, there is the tiny beauty that hovers all the time that we do notice, but perhaps, at which we don’t often take a hard look. On my days working as a dog walker, I try to snap a shot or two for posterity with my smart phone, an HTC Imagine.

I was lucky to catch this bee, not only working such a beautiful flower, but with that old blue car in the background.

This worker appears quite in love with the lilac, tucked away in her sweet fragrance and tasty nectar.

Kissed by a buzz and the California sun. I never realized how beautiful bees were. When you look hard at nature this small, you can really see how it all works together.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise except as permitted under Sections 107 or 108 of the 1976 United States Copyright Act, without either the prior written permission of the Publisher, or authorization through payment of the appropriate per-copy fee. 

Urban Nature: Hawk Siting

A few days shy of Halloween, near the corner of Market and Riviera (just down from Windward Circle), I spied a stalwart hawk.  Descending out of nowhere, the mighty hunter grazed my abruptly expanded aura, then swooped back into the trees. The hawk was evading several tempestuous scavengers, attempting to chase the bird of prey from previously proclaimed territory.

In Chicago a number of years ago, I witnessed a hawk snatch up a fowl, while the little thing fed on the ground. The predator landed on a tree limb, its meal yet alive, gripped by talons, helpless, knowing it was going to die…The way those tiny black eyes darted – in terror and confusion – pierced me with an eerie, sinister feeling that I will never forget.

Battling a gang of crows, our Venice Hawk appeared more majestic than the Chicago Killer.  A physically superb, avian construction, the hawk was built to seize live prey with speed and stealth. Contrastingly, crows are made for falling out of trees onto dead carcasses and munching decaying flesh.

Upon tremendous agility and grace, the outnumbered hawk flew with far greater precision than its greasy-feathered pursuers, plunging rather close to the ground, then effortlessly ascending in a steep trajectory. Determined and menacing as they were, the crows seemed ungainly and awkward, unable to keep pace, like demons charging out of bad dreams into the light. Confident the hunter would triumph, I left them to the final battle.

The next day, I discovered a cleanly beheaded kestral beneath the very same trees. Though lacking sufficient evidence, there is not a doubt in my mind as to who was responsible.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise except as permitted under Sections 107 or 108 of the 1976 United States Copyright Act, without either the prior written permission of the Publisher, or authorization through payment of the appropriate per-copy fee.