Sunset, 11.12.2016

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On Saturday, Nov 12, I decided to take a late afternoon break from our communal vigil for the end of America as we know it. Dog Brookie and I watched the nonplussed autumn sun set into the Santa Barbara Channel. Thanks, God, I needed that.

Light and Magic

We had quite a sunset this evening, after a day at the end of January in which the temperature hit at least 75f.

Click each image to enlarge.

First here’s a shot taken from my balcony, as I was leaving my condo at about 5pm.

View 2015-01-29 16.58.14

I took these two as our dog was walking me about half an hour later.

Sunset 2015-01-29 17.24.14

Sumset 2015-01-29 17.27.12

…Happy sunsets.

Wind Clouds

We had a nice rain here in Carpinteria last night. The perfect evening to curl up like a puppy in front of the fireplace. This morning, there were cool wind clouds on the coastal hills. I had a great view from my balcony when I went out for my morning walk.

Here’s a wide shot photo:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/kylekimberlin/10980774676/

And here’s the Instagram version:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/kylekimberlin/10980606855

Three Years

Hard to believe, but it’s been three years since our little Happy went on to the world that comes next, to be with Grandma and run and play with the other dogs, and wait for us to catch up. It was July 8, 2009.

In this photo, Happy is having lunch just a few hours before the vet came to help her cross the bridge. I think lunch was her favorite, “oven baked” chicken from Subway.* She doesn’t look sick; she looks hungry and profoundly sweet and patient. But she was a pretty sick little doggie.

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Happy didn’t write poetry, as far as I know. But she was a blogger.

My sheltie Tasha was a poet though. Here’s a poem for memory, written by Tasha in 1999. For the record, I didn’t mind Tasha sleeping on the bed or the quilt. I think she made that up for artistic effect. This photo is of Tasha on the bed, about a year after she wrote the poem, when we moved to our new house.

The Love Quilttasha bed 2000

I’m not supposed to be on this bed,
but the man isn’t watching.
Not supposed to be on the grandma quilt,
the very pretty one with diamonds
of red and blue. The man thinks I’m
color blind. The little tassels of yarn
tickle my nose. I hope the man doesn’t
see me sleeping here. He says this quilt
is just for love, like a leash just for people
or a toy just for later. A dog needs this
love if she lives with a poet.

by Tasha
July 13, 1999

* For a mood lifter after this heavy post, here’s a video of Hank Green singing The Subway Where I Used To Go. And if you don’t know why that’s funny, here’s a version of the original song.