The painting of the house is finally finished. From 1990-.., it was blue. While I did like it that color, it wasn't my first choice. My husband picked out the color, and while it looked good, I figured 22 years was long enough for one color, which is why I decided to get it repainted white with green trim, cottage red porches, and light blue porch ceilings. I love it! Most of the family like it, too.
Painting porch ceilings blue to mimic the sky is a southern tradition. Supposedly, wasps won't build nests there because it looks like the sky. Since we've always had problems with wasp nests on the porch ceilings, we'll see. I've always wanted to paint ours blue, but just didn't have the nerve. But I figured, why not? If I hate it, I'll just paint it back white. Fortunately, they look great!
And the red porch floors? I really like them, too, even though they're a little harder to keep clean. Originally we just left them bare wood, and dirt didn't show up at all.
Tomorrow I'll take you on a visual tour of all these places.
I's incredibly happy that the county we live in is more than 75% dedicated and undeveloped Open Space, with trails for pups, horsies, cyclists and hikers. I've made several posts about these amazing lands throughout Marin. But unbelievably, I can romp on other undeveloped lands here too. Our water district (its sign, above) manages 20,000 acres with 160 miles of unpaved roads and trails. We have 7 state parks (14,000 acres), and the Golden Gate National Recreation Area (45,000 acres) and finally, in western Marin, the Point Reyes National Seashore with 150 miles of trails and fireroads (33,000 acres), but I can't hike most places there. Still, I'm spoiled rotten with all the options I have and yesterday, since it's been raining so much, we decided to check out any waterfall activity happening on Mt. Tamalpais. Humans make pilgrimages to Tam in spring, when the falls are roiling and banks dotted with showy wildflowers. We didn't spot any posies, but the falls were a torrent! 
The approach eventually takes us out to Alpine Lake, around which we meander. It's about 4:30 pm, and we'd like to get to the trailhead, as the canopy is dark on the brightest of summer days in the thick conifer forest everywhere here.
The trail starts at the end of the bay to the left in this above photo.
Mom hadn't been here for about six years. While Cataract Falls was full and rushing, and the wildflowers were splendid, today's experience was radically different.
C'mon Ma, stop with that box thing! Lots to investigate here... a ton of smells!
Such as something I like in these grasses.
Love this place - it's beautiful, the woods smell incredibly yumzers, but that water is very LOUD. I decide to bark at it when it comes into view.
This little side rivulet (there are many falls that are coming down from the steep canyon walls on either side of the "river") is about to empty into the main Falls. I can handle this little stream!
A nice old bridge crosses yet another side falls.
It's a very steep trail that goes for about 2 miles - lots of stone and wooden stairs - I like the old stone steps. They are treachurously slippery, we find, on the way down.
Here's a little side river that I examine - some excellent smells here and I thought I might have spied a tree rat above. Mom was too slow to get a picture!
And very beautiful. Mom seems meditative - there are only one or two others here today - on a typical weekend, the trail is packed.
Time to head back to the car as the woods are really starting to get dark. Pretty Alpine Lake views on the way back by trailside.
On the road home, we see several of these - some in fields, some on the chi chi Meadow Club golf course!
Eyes practically glazed over, I stare intently at these furry creatures as I know them. And like the way they move. If I could, I'd try to play with them, but they are too fast for me. I sleep all the way home, which is about 20 minutes away. I feel very lucky to have all these great places to investigate.
The cut -off stems of Hedychium coronarium/Hawaiian White Ginger bore an odd resemblance to the Cat tails that grew in Illinois swamps. 
Over in the triangle garden, the 'Little Gem' magnolia leaves were gradually emerging, dropping clear replicas of themselves on the grass. 
The Loquat leaves were still encased too, with most of the branches still bent. I experimented, holding a leaf and trying to slide off the ice, but it held on tight, so I left it to melt on its own. 
My darling Loquat is rebounding I think, although one limb is now completely horizontal, blocking the patio exit at eye level instead of arching 8 feet overhead as it did a week ago. Ki has advised me that props may be necessary, and if we're going to use the patio, at least this branch will need support. 
The ground is littered with browned and frozen loquats; the tiny fruits had just begun developing. A few remain on the tree, but winter isn't over, so my dreams of actually eating any this spring may stay dreams.
It's one in the afternoon, and we haven't thawed out as quickly here as Pam/Digging and MSS/Zanthan have reported - ice remains floating in birdbaths and in the pots.
Well... not these doggies, but moi. It was the first time I'd competed on grass and at this one certain point in the ring, you might have thought someone put scratchy powder there (although no other doggies did what I did). But tell you what: after I "did" it, I was like a deer in the headlights. I was totally flummoxed and didn't have a clue as to what I was supposed to do. I looked out at Dad, taking the movie, and standing stock still, looked at Ma. Was I supposed to go to her? Stay where I was? (After my booboo, Dad took pictures of the grass and surroundings, so since Ma doesn't know how to edit vids, you might want to stop after the "problem.") 
I'd rather be doing this!!!
This is the view from the back deck which overlooks a small lake. I'm on Fripp Island for a few days to plan, rest, read, etc.