The glories of southern California

My friend Dr. P., who moved here for a post-doc from New York, is not so enamored of southern California. In part it's because she doesn't have a car, well, in great part it's because she doesn't have a car. It's difficult for her to partake in all this town and environs have to offer, what with not being able to get to them and all. I don't know how she does it (and this from me, always biking and busing around).

So on the last weekday of our spring break, I took her along on a spring breaky journey, just up the coast, one county over. I finally bought myself a local hiking book the other day, and especially since it's wildflower season for about the next month, I'm going to knock off as many of the good-sounding ones as I can in the coming weeks. Ever since January's mountain lion encounter, I've been a bit hesitant to hare off into the woods myself, although actually it hasn't really stopped me. Even so, long hikes are always nicer with like-minded people, I think, especially when they're experiencing a landscape for the first time.

Our destination, a state park that's part of the Santa Monica mountains, had much to offer, including stunning views of the Pacific,
and lovely views of mountains,
and at least fifteen kinds of wildflower, by my count, only a few of which can be seen here.
Occasionally, nature also provided allegorical scenes, like this one of a new yucca rising between the skeletons of two yuccas that had bloomed last year and then died: we deemed it "Youth rising from the ashes." Or some such. It's hard to remember. But it was definitely something profound. And allegorical.
All this loveliness was still not enough, though, and we headed to a Malibu beach on the way home -- this one also a state park, and a bit off the highway, so, we thought, probably somewhat secluded. Like many non-bay Pacific beaches, this one too had dramatic rock features that had been created by millenia of erosion,
and dramatic cliffs, with crenelations carved away by rainwater,
and also my beachy friend the charming willet, digging away at the shoreline for whatever shore creature it eats (even with binoculars, I can never quite see).
Less expected, but also delightful, was the shoot for a Gilette razor commercial, one apparently to be aired in Germany, based on the attire and speech of many of the people involved in the shoot (the remainder being slow-moving hipsterly SoCal behind-the-scenes camera and lighting types). The razor model is the one in the white bathrobe -- the winds were kind of chilly, and she was shivering in her black socks and white sneakers (which hopefully were not going to make an appearance in the commercial itself). In our time there, we saw precisely no shooting action, just some cameras being moved around and a lot of other people sitting under canopies and looking at the ocean. So very LA. Dr. P. has already decided that she, in turn, will bring her own visitors here.