Maybe.  If.  Entrance?  Gate.  Keep out.  Come in.  Tiles.  Geometry.  Wreath.  Squares.  Diamonds.  Textures.  Blue.  Light.  Plants.  Orange stucco.  White piece of paper?  Steps.  Railings.

It’s just across the street.  Hmph!

We walked out to the Broadway Pier.  I love these combinations of metal, wood, and water.  The rusted bolts, the split worn wood, the shadows, the contrast of the black [water] and white [post], the evidence of the water’s force and the salt’s insistent corrosion — all speak to me of boats and piers and the universality of harbors everywhere.  Similar photos could probably be taken in thousands of places around the world; this one is at home.

We saw this on our walk today.  Lovely to look at and lovely to think about the birds enjoying.  Giving.  More giving.  Let’s all think of ways to  do more giving!  May the season of giving be extended…every day.

It’s a tangle.  It looks edible, but I don’t think it is.  It’s larger than a ground cover, perhaps a low sprawling shrub.  It’s variegated and slender and lovely.  It’s planted along Harbor Drive, where we walked today in the glorious sunshine after a brunch out at a French cafe with our son and daughter.  Happiness is.

I’m still noticing the basics of the architecture and design around here.  The juxtaposition of materials, the lines, the curves, the contrasts of texture, the refined and the organic side by side — all contribute to a sense of care about detail as well as about the whole.

Wood and metal, stone and concrete and shrub.  Coarse and smooth.  Gray and brown.  Works for me!

Yours  [nature’s] and mine [human-made] and ours [internal?]  It’s all ours.  Wish we would remember that.  Seems right for this time of year!

My father’s 100th birthday.

We can see through, perhaps, but do we know what we are looking at?  And it’s simple and complex, simultaneously.

Put your eye there, or your tiny fingertip.

Order and dis-.

Oh world, what we make, what we do, how we don’t possibly love enough!

All natural.  Onions, mushrooms, yellow and green zucchini.  A mere pinch of sugar,  barest sprinkle of salt, a few good grinds of black pepper; saute in half olive oil, half butter until *almost* done.  Add just a bit of half-and-half, sprinkle with a generous amount of grated parmesan, and pour over cheese tortellini.  Dinner in a dish, fast and easy.  And so much less rich, fatty, and salty than something in a restaurant.  I feel sad for folks who don’t like to cook.  Plus — it’s pretty, don’t you think?

On our walk, at the Children’s Museum park.  I wish it were a morning glorious in our congress.  Just the opposite.  There is enough in the world to go around, and we haven’t the political will and moral integrity to share.  Morning glory indeed.  This is one of the times that beauty makes me sad…

The richness of the color and texture is so compelling.  Silver with pale green in the bottom left; rich rust across the middle;  mottled gray, cream, and pale orange at the top; and finally, the black-on-white veining just over the silver.  You can’t look at these trunks and say they are just “brown!”

There’s so much color in our world and we don’t seem to stop to notice it, usually.  I wonder how much my insipient cataracts keep me from seeing?  I’m pushing myself to really look!

R has a lovely photo he called “Yellow Leaf.”  His is better; it was taken in our back yard in Kansas.  This one is almost too pristine; she looks like she’s posing.  However, I enjoy her regal demeanor and her slightly saucy attitude.  There are a zillion leaves on the sidewalk, somewhat surprising to me as it doesn’t get that cold here.  But the days do indeed get shorter, in terms of sunlight, so the foliage is taking its cue.

Friends from out of town visited us today and we walked down to the harbor.  I don’t want to get to taking the beauty of this place for granted.  Palms against high-rise hotels against perfect blue skies…it’s lovely day after day.

Some have asked if I miss the seasons.  Short answer: no.  Sometimes I miss the rain and mist and fog, but not the traditional midwestern or New England seasons.  My parka lives in a box in storage, and that’s fine with me.   Just fine.

There are lots of palm trees, lots of rows of palm trees, lots of trunks of palm trees — all to be seen on our walks.  This was today’s  star-quality trunk, with that intriguing  rake/broom/piano string arrangement of fibers just sitting there looking natural.  Which it was.  Is.  I have no idea how it gets that way.  I could do a whole series of peeling palm trunks.  The palms are often machine-trimmed, and they also lose fronds naturally.  The textures are compelling, don’t you think?

This was our first housewarming gift, from a very good friend, and I thought I’d take its photo, as it’s doing quite well.  This being said by the woman who has a rather brown thumb and is delilghted that her “lucky bamboo” is still thriving after over two months!

P.S.  Aren’t the floors pretty?  One of the features we really liked about our new condo.  Not solid wood like what we used in the Midwest, but a pretty color and finish on engineered wood.  Thank you.

By Roman de Salvo.  I had to look up the word; it’s a type of aquarium, with lots of plant material.

Public art keeps calling for my attention.  I thought it was an abstracted sailboat; the wires and the “masts” defining the sails and the logs (eucalyptus) defining the deck of the ship.

But maybe San Diego is a sort of Riparium, and a boat sailing the earth through the universe…

I forget that.  It’s a busy fishing harbor, transport harbor, shipping harbor.  A few miles south, cargo ships unload.  And here, close to home, are not only pleasure boats, but also working fishing boats.

We were treated one morning to watching them unload opah.  Apparently they are a fish that is high in mercury, much like swordfish.  Sigh.  Everywhere you turn, there’s something that needs fixing.  Even our glorious weather has its downsides — fire, drought…but look at that blue sky and even bluer water!

There is a set of five of these light sculptures in a large walkway near the Marriott in the harbor.  They are quite attractive, and have a subtle wave form, each of the five slightly different.  Katie MacDonald and Kyle Schumann are the artists.  This is a part of the percent for art program; we enjoy walking by these on our way to the harbor several times each week.  They are especially effective at night.

We walked down to the harbor to watch the decorated boats,  It was a balmy evening, with people picnicking and sitting on the lawn and the rocks and the benches, watching about 80 boats make their way from one end of the harbor over to Coronado.  Some of them had music and dancers, and they were all having a pretty good time.  So were the crowds; a San Diego “winter” special!

But still, water features, especially urban ones, are lovely.  This is not at our building, but featured at one nearby.  I have no idea how much water is “wasted” by such things, but the visual and auditory benefits can’t be dismissed.  We are drawn to water; and, no longer near the beach, I can’t help but take pleasure in this!

Bougainvillea is ubiquitous and so dramatic and rich and well, just so very Mediterranean/Californian.  And yes, I checked the spelling of both of those tricky words.  (Is there a “u” or an “i” and is it double “r”…?!}  (And lots of punctuation all in a row there!)

I used to be able to trust my intuitive spelling…now, not so much.  I knew I knew how to spell something; now doubt pesters me far too often.  “Bougainvillea” is always something I’ll have to look up!

On a gorgeous morning, on a tragic day 76 years ago.

The sky is still blue, the sun is still shining for us.  There’s a lot that’s up in the air, as it were, and beatiful days like this give me hope.  For all of us.  For our children.  Amen.

There were a zillion of them.  As I stepped closer, they noisily and rather frantically took off.  So I stepped back and waited for them to gather again.  This is only about half of them; the rest were leery and gathered elsewhere.  There must have been some terrific crumbs of something yummy there  — party time!

So this leaf is just standing up in the middle of the sidewalk.  All by its lonesome.  Perky as can be.  No visible means of support except its stem, which is behind it, at 90 degrees, lying on the sidewalk.  Too cool.

That’s what everyone asks when we say we moved here six years ago.  This is why!

I like the variegated ones, better than the red ones or the funny yellowish-white ones.

They must be related to coleus.  I’ll have to check.  I like variegation in general.  Here it makes the leaves seem very carefully dyed, by a skilled textile artist with some pointilistic leanings.

Courtesy of Little Italy’s farmers’ market.  All of $2.  How can one resist?