Orange County California

Buttons and Lines

August 4, 2019 by Melodye Shore

Piglets at the County Fair. Cute as BUTTONS, aren’t they?

The crowds are bigger at the pig pens than almost any other attraction at the fair. And no wonder: Is there anything cuter than wriggly pink piglets, kicking up sawdust as they run circles around their mama?

#AugustBreak2019, Day 4…The theme of the day is BUTTONS, in case you haven’t guessed. I was going to post a photo of my Nana’s button collection, but it’s been a rough 24-hour news cycle. Two mass shootings within 24 hours… 29 fatalities and multiple casualties. I mourn their loss and speak their names.

I feel, as you do, the gravity of this moment. But I believe we are better served by optimism than resignation. Joy in the morning, and lightness of being. So for today’s prompt, I chose silly over serious. To wit: Pink-snouted, snuffling piglets to the rescue! Think of them as a gift, aka a “happy,” with curly ribbons as tails. #JoyInTheMorning

P.S. Yesterday’s prompt was LINE. In this news photo, El Paso residents are waiting in a two-hour line to donate blood for the victims of the first of two mass shootings in a single day. (Image via CNN. I was too teary-eyed to take photos.) #AugustBreak2019, day 3

Autumn by the Ocean

October 17, 2018 by Melodye Shore

It’s autumn here, absolutely. But if you’re expecting cool, crisp mornings and chilly nights, you’ll have to look elsewhere.

Here in Southern California, autumn is an extension of summer, with longer shadows and shorter days. There are fewer tourists, but it’s still warm enough for picnic lunches by the beach. Here, for example, ants are sipping nectar from a honeysuckle vine, which has twisted itself around the thorny bougainvillea bush that clings to the limestone cliff with an oceanside view.

And this is the bougainvillea around which the honeysuckle wraps its arms.

Our Mediterranean climate is far different from leafy New England, where farm stands are piled high with crunchy apples and colorful foliage forms a thick, kaleidoscope carpet over suburban lawns and forests. It’s warm here, and sunny, but equally beautiful in its own way.

I love our cozy autumn mornings, when the marine layer blankets the hills and the sunrise sets the tile roofs aglow.

The sun slants lower in the afternoon sky, casting a warm glow over the wildflowers and spotlighting the iridescent hummingbirds that flit through our backyard gardens. And just before nightfall, the sun transforms itself into a shimmering ball that scatters diamonds over the ocean. As Victoria Erickson once said, “If a year was tucked inside of a clock, then autumn would be the magic hour.”

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First day of Autumn in SoCal, 2018

September 24, 2018 by Melodye Shore

At 6:54 p.m. on Saturday, summer officially gave way to autumn. Time for a road trip, I thought. So at sunrise on this first day of the season, I hopped in my car and went looking for signs of Fall.

Theoretically, the seasonal shifts should be obvious. But here in Orange County, California, the changes are more subtle. Daylight hours grow gradually shorter, but the temperatures climb into upper 70s through at least October. Searing Santa Ana winds are far more common than rainfall.

Ice scrapers aren’t necessary in these parts. No umbrellas or woolen socks required. And still, you’ll find tell-tale signs of autumn almost everywhere–providing you know where and how to look. Pumpkin patches crop up everywhere, from abandoned lots to major intersections. Pumpkin spice lattes are a given. Knott’s Berry Farm transforms itself into Knott’s Scary Farm, and Disneyland hosts a frightfully fun Halloween party. But if you’re like me, you’ll probably enjoy the less commercial aspects of the season…

I found this pot of gold in a stand of sycamore trees. Mother Nature might wear a less-expansive color palette than you see elsewhere, but she’s well aware of her environment and knows how to dress for the occasion.

If you’re a reader, you’ll find an ample supply of autumn-themed books from which to choose. Grab your sunglasses, slide into your flip-flops, and carry a handful of favorites to your lounge chair by the pool. (At my elbow right now: Fear, by Bob Woodward, and Reese Witherspoon’s Whiskey in a Teacup.)

If you’re an out-of-stater, you might be rolling your eyes about now. Understood. If you’re not used to our mild, Mediterranean climate, you might need to adjust your views about how autumn “should” look and feel. But keep in mind that these images depict a singularly beautiful, blue-sky day in Fall, as viewed through the lens of a native Californian. The Golden State is different, and we own that.

The light slants low through our palm trees, now, casting longer (arguably more interesting) shadows.

Our gardens are vibrant, year-’round. Monarch butterflies, honeybees, and hummingbirds stay local, rather than migrating even further south. Given our temperate climate, who can blame them?

Here as elsewhere, apples are now ripe for the picking. Designer labels or no, these fruits are crisp, sweet and juicy, just like their rural counterparts. And homebaked apple pies…mmmm, always delicious!

Farther afield in my own sojourn, I encountered a fleur de l’agave. Faded by the summer sun, it clung to a rocky cliff above an emptied beach.

We might run the air conditioning until mid-November, but we’re a warm and friendly people. In my sojourns today, for instance, I came across this heart-tugging scene. A candy-corn kitty finally met his match, thanks to a local rescue organization. An auspicious beginning for autumn, don’t you think?

There’s something to be said for leaf peeping, flannel shirts, hot apple cider, and crackling fires, of course. But this…this is my version of paradise.

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Coming home to my story

February 25, 2017 by Melodye Shore

I came upon this plen aire painting class on my walk yesterday. Beautiful morning; magnificent view.

I watched from a respectful distance, noting with interest that the artists worked systematically, dabbing identical brushes into matching color palettes. When they’d spread the first pigment from corner to corner, they stopped to compare their templated images to the scene beyond their easels.

The instructor was genuine in her praise, and most students seemed to appreciate her occasional redirect. The class objective? To reproduce the painting on the far right, which was itself a reproduction of a rock formation in the cove below.

Truth be told, I started feeling restless. Such an arduous, painstaking task! Like most creative types, I pull from a grab-bag of tried-and-true techniques, easily mastered. I’ve learned that it’s far too easy –and dangerous– to focus our energies on straight-ahead instructions, easily reproduced. I like to experiment, make mistakes, discover.

F-stops, shutter speed, and the Rule of Thirds; strong verbs, sensory images, and character arcs. These are the basic elements of storytelling. I want a working knowledge in my fingertips. But I’d never trade away my wide-eyed sensibilities (my unique perspectives) for that muting thing we writers call “structure.”

For me, creativity comes of exploring a rugged archway–born of earthquakes and raging tides–and chance encounters with tourists who pass through its frame. It’s inspired by pelicans that glide silently through the skies, waves that churn and froth at the shoreline, and salty breezes that tousle my hair.

Writing flows when I break loose from those soul-sucking musts and shoulds, lace up my hiking shoes, and plant both feet in the scene. It’s then, when I finally lose myself in the moment, that I come home to my story.

Holding onto Hope, Keeping the Faith

October 18, 2016 by Melodye Shore

I went down to the beach again yesterday–after the tides receded, when the harbor seals typically sun themselves on the rocky shores of Goff Island Cove. It was a hallmark day: the 7th and next-to-last chemo treatment for my friend on the East Coast. Same as always, she was counting me to send pictures and videos, to help get her through the final weeks of that grueling regimen.

In the same way that I look to the skies for hummingbirds, she scans the ocean for seals. They are her spirit animals, harbingers of comfort and hope. No way would I ever want to disappoint her! That’s why, over the course of her many treatments, I’ve observed very closely “our” seal family’s habits and habitat. I know, from watching them and observing the tides, when they’re most likely to appear. They’ve become very comfortable with my presence; I call some of them by name. They’ve always revealed themselves to me, even when they hide from others. But yesterday…even before I descended the wooden stairs that lead into to the cove, I sensed that they weren’t there.

I blinked hard in the strong sunlight…didn’t see them on the rocks. I scanned the open water…no bobbing heads.Nature has her own, mysterious ways. She doesn’t operate on our timelines. I know and respect all of that. And still, I struggled against a rising panic. How could I explain to my friend that the seals hadn’t shown themselves–on a chemo day, of all days?

Tourists came and went, snapping selfies as they climbed all over the jagged rocks where the seals usually chill, calling out to each other in loud, jolting voices that would surely send the most habituated sea life into hiding. I watched an elderly couple explore the cove, clinging tight to one another as they bent over the tide pools, whispering excitedly about sea anemone, hermit crabs and shells. They were Eastern European, I think, from the sounds of their broken English. When they approached the rocks where I stood, I introduced myself. We used gestures and simple sentences to communicate, as new friends do. Quietly, because we shared a reverence for that space. When I said something about the “seals,” their eyes lit up. With huge smiles stretched across their sunburned faces, they pointed in unison to a distant rock formation, surrounded by water.

Here it is, a place they call Treasure Island.

And there they were: Freckles and Friends, sprawled on the rocks in the afternoon sun. Beyond the reach of any human beings, and almost beyond the reach of my little bridge camera. Snoozing, as seals do, after they’ve eaten a large meal and nap time stretches in front of them, unimpeded by predators and ocean surges.

A young seal was nestled into a patch of surf grass, at the base of the rocks.

The baby seal was wandering off by himself, as is his wont.

The oldest male, Freckles, was flanked on all sides by friends, all of whom were camouflaged by the mounded rocks that shielded them from the glaring sun.

Such a relief, to see them there, safe and sound…and, well, present. Such a pleasure, to send photos to my friend! Videos, too, like this one.

I’m reminded once again, of the good that shows itself when we hold out hope in the face of doubt. This is what it means to “get by with a little help from our friends.” This is what it means to keep the faith.

A special kind of magic

September 27, 2016 by Melodye Shore

I arrived at the beach at mid-tide, because that’s when the harbor seals typically hoist themselves on the rocks. Sometimes, I bring my friends. Sometimes I point them out to tourists. But today, at the mid-point of my friend’s chemotherapy treatments, I went alone.

I wanted to talk with the seals privately, as we’ve done in the past. I felt sure they’d pose for my camera, same as before. I’d send videos to my friend, because the sounds of the ocean are soothing. I’d send snapshots of the seals, as well, because they’re a healing balm for her.

But as luck would have it, “my” typically quiet cove was crawling with tourists. Locals, too, who probably skipped out on work to enjoy the sunny, hot weather. They scrambled over the rocks where the seals usually lounge. They splashed in the tide pools, took business calls at the water’s edge, and snapped endless selfies with squirming, screeching kids.

I didn’t begrudge them the opportunity to visit this lovely hideaway. Of course not. I don’t expect everyone to approach this outdoor sanctuary with the same reverence that I do. But I confess to a bit of selfishness in wishing I were alone on the beach, for at least a little while. Seemed to me, this was the only way the harbor seals would make their presence known.

“They don’t always hang out here,” said the tide pool docent, whom I’d never seen before, but with whom I’d shared a brief conversation about starfish and, well, seals. “They have the whole ocean at their disposal,” she said, “not just this one beach.”

“Yeah, I get that,” I said, “But I really think they’ll show up. They always seem to know….”

I watched the incoming waves for the next two hours, but they didn’t pop their heads up, much less come ashore.

The tide began to surge again, and my parking meter was set to expire. I gathered my belongings, reluctantly so, and left my rocky perch. I was still clinging to the notion that the seals were out there in the surf, but that I’d somehow overlooked them.

I scrambled across the hot sand, toting my belongings toward the staircase. Stopped. Pivoted. Listened to my intuition, and lifted my camera out of its bag.

I scanned the horizon one more time, index finger on the shutter button. Sure enough: In a peaceful cove, not visible to people scrambling over the rocks…in the water, far removed from the madding crowd…I spied a harbor seal floating past, just as happy as could be.

He showed up for my friend and for me, I truly believe that. Another gift from the sea, carrying a special kind of magic.

“Let yourself be great!!!”

September 21, 2016 by Melodye Shore

“These seals seem to know you,” said the movie producer who shared the beach with me this morning. I was snapping photos in the rocky cove; his crew was sprawled across the sandy shoreline, filming a promotional piece for Visit California.

It’s true that the seals are comfortable with my presence. They talk to me, and vogue for the camera.

So naturally, I’ve been posting lots of photos & videos lately. Because: seals. Who doesn’t love ’em?

But there’s also backstory to this, my most recent obsession.

You see, my friend in New York loves seals. She’ll drive all the way to Maine, just to watch them play.

“Do you see seals on your morning walks?” she asked me one day.

“No, I don’t think I’ve ever seen them around here.”

She was really disappointed, because: seals. Who doesn’t love ’em?

It didn’t seem all that likely at the time, but I promised her I’d take pictures–if I ever saw them here, that is.

In a poignant twist of fate, I first saw these harbor seals on the morning of my friend’s cancer diagnosis. I’ve been taking seal videos and snapshots for her, ever since.

These harbor seals keep showing up–for my friend and me, and for anyone who finds delightful these gifts from the sea.

So there’s another other thing I haven’t yet mentioned. Trust me: It’s very much related.

My friend and I are working in tandem on some special projects for the Hillary Clinton campaign. It’s a coast-to-coast connection that makes us feel as if we’re doing something good in the world. And despite the miles between us, it’s brought us very close. Illness or no, we are stronger together.

Well… I didn’t know it when I visited the seals this morning, but my friend had sent a handwritten card to our candidate of choice. She tucked a short note inside, and addressed the envelope to Madam Secretary, Hillary Clinton. “Let yourself be great!!!” she said, and then she signed her name.

And so it was that while my friend was at the hospital this morning, hooked up to the IV line that delivered her third chemo treatment–and while I was in Goff Island Cove, circumventing the film crew and capturing these images–my friend from New York heard her cell phone ring.

Guess who was on the other end?

Yes, that’s right. Madam Secretary, Hillary Clinton.

If you know me, you know already that my eyes were swimming when my friend let me know how things went down. Hillary was gracious, she said, and so very encouraging: “Get well soon,” she’d said, with genuine warmth in her voice; and after thanking my friend for the personalized card (and her volunteer efforts), Madam Secretary mentioned the four, smallish words that touched her so deeply.

“Let yourself be great!!”

A softball coach first shared those words of encouragement with my friend from New York. She was just eleven years old. But as so often happens with words that resonate, my friend never forgot that handful of words. And when the just-right moment presented itself, she passed them along.

You never know where a moment’s kindness might eventually travel.

You might be surprised about the reach of a few, carefully selected words of encouragement.

Like these seals, they imbue a special kind of magic. When you least expect it, they find their way back to you, carrying treasures of their own.

A downside to drones

September 8, 2016 by Melodye Shore

Can we talk about drones for a minute?

Not FAA regulations and local laws, because those are debated elsewhere–more knowledgeably and objectively than I might. Let’s talk, instead, about the ways in which these sky cameras, built for fun, might negatively affect wildlife habitats and the places we’ve come to know as our private sanctuaries. Not a high-level discussion, but an up-close-and-personal, eyewitness view.

Imagine that you’re enjoying a morning walk on the beach, toes digging into sand, as gentle waves splash ashore.

Now that the tourists have gone home, the beaches are nearly empty. But look! There’s a trio of seals to keep you company–further out to sea, sunning themselves on Goff Cove Island.

They’ve come to know and trust you, because you approach them with a quiet reverence…

…zooming in with your camera but never encroaching on their comfort zone.

They snooze while you’re scrambling over the rocks, investigating the tide pools and snapping photos–ever watchful, but never fearful. You’re buddies now, and they even talk to you.

“What do you see out there?” a newcomer asks.

You point, and then marvel together at their sleek beauty.

A bull seal reveals itself, watches you watching him. The potential for danger is always near, for both of you. But instinct is a powerful thing. You know you are safe, and so does he.

You pan your camera across the ocean, sun-kissed waves to sandy shore. There is no curating to be done here. It’s their habitat, and you are the guest.

The seals doze, perk up now and again, no doubt attuned to sounds your human ears aren’t sensitive enough to hear.

And then, near the very end of your videotaping session, you hear a menacing whine.

The seals are on heightened alert, now.

A strange beast crests the rocks…bobbing, whirring, careening back and forth in unpredictable patterns. Then it drops, dozens of feet, at high velocity.

The herd panics. The bull seal gives a signal, and they dive into the water, all four of them, and vanish.

Maybe it’s a stretch to think that drones will eventually stake their claim on everything, within and beyond a human’s reach. Maybe it’s wrong to extrapolate, from my own experience, that we’re edging toward a world in which curiosity outstrips compassion, privacy goes by the wayside, and convenience trumps all. But there’s no doubt in my mind that we should set some ground rules while we can.

UPDATE: This encounter inspired me to take action–one voice of many, writing letters & making calls. In response to community concerns, Laguna Beach passed into law an ordinance banning drones over city parks, near beaches, and over government buildings! As of 13 July, 2017, “Drone-flying is still allowed over private property and over the ocean, but harassment of marine wildlife will not be tolerated,” Laguna Beach Police Chief Farinella said.

From Motown to La La Land: Meet American Girl’s newest doll, Melody

August 28, 2016 by Melodye Shore

Meet Melody Ellison, a 9-year-old African-American girl who loves gardening, singing in the church choir, and listening to Motown music. Her story, No Ordinary Sound, is set in 1960s Detroit during the height of the Civil Rights movement. Inspired by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s speeches about equality, American Girl’s newest BeForever™ character picks “Lift Every Voice and Sing” for her very first solo performance. Change is in the air, and when the unspeakable happens in the Deep South, Melody’s voice is silenced. Can she recover it before her upcoming solo? Enter the book giveaway at the end of this blog post, and be among first to find out!

Most girls choose dolls that look like them. They want dolls that spark their imagination and inspire them in some way. Melody and I aren’t twinsies, but then again, I didn’t look like my beloved clothespin doll (Miss No Name), either. But we share the same name, and our stories are similar. Best of all, Melody Ellison’s built for adventures, just like me.

She arrived in her “meet” dress, accessorized here with a pillbox hat, cat-eye sunglasses, and a patent leather handbag.* Motown all the way, but ready for her adventures in La La Land.

We took a quick tour of my backyard first, because that’s what gardeners do. So flattering, the California sunshine on her beautiful hair and skin! I tucked some flowers into her handbag and then we headed to the beach.

Lovely view, don’t you think?

Melody opted quickly for a more casual look, ditching the handbag and slipping out of her patent leather flats.

#CaliforniaDreaming

She scrambled up the lifeguard stand…

…and splashed in frothy waves.**

Salty breezes tousled her hair, and her sunglasses slipped down her nose.

We explored the tide pools together, collecting sea glass and ocean-smoothed rocks.

Then we leaned against this outcropping, watching the surfers and listening to the seagulls.

Melody didn’t bring a beach hat, but she protected her curls with this fetching little number. A passerby pivoted, called over his shoulder: “Hey, isn’t that the doll I saw on the news? She smiled and waved, like the celebrity she is.

It was a memorable day, start to finish–lots to write and talk about when we got home!

We had so much fun on our beach adventure, and I can’t help but think that girls of all ages will fall in love with Melody Ellison.

Kudos to American Girl for designing this beautiful doll, who reflects so well the changing face of history. Author Denise Lewis Patrick should be congratulated, as well, for adding No Ordinary Sound to the growing collection of diverse books. Melody isn’t just a doll–she’s a phenomenon. In lifting her voice for positive change, she’ll inspire girls of all ages to do the same.

*American Girl collaborated with a six-member advisory board that provided input on all aspects of Melody’s appearance and storyline, including her outfits, accessories, hairstyle, historical events and settings.

**Thanks to videos like this one, I knew ahead of time that American Girls don’t like to get drenched. Not to worry, though: If Melody gets water-damaged, the AG hospital can fix her up, good as new.

And now for the book giveaway contest! You have until Labor Day to enter–good luck!

No Ordinary Sound: A Melody Classic Book Giveaway

A Conversation with Hillary Clinton in Orange County, California

May 28, 2016 by Melodye Shore

We must find a way to talk about politics, Hillary Clinton said in Orange County, California last Monday, without resorting to pettiness and put-downs—standing our ground when necessary, but rising together toward the common good.

Turns out, it’s impossible to keep separate my personal observations and political leanings, but I’ve done my best to share my experiences here in a respectful, inclusive way. I hope you’ll feel equally inspired to meet your preferred candidate in a local venue and to share your stories afterward.

I carry a clipboard, entrance forms and my camera, wade into the long line at the UFCW Hall in Buena Park, and invite people to share their stories as we wait together for the Secret Service to usher us through the metal detectors.

Here as elsewhere, Hillary draws a diverse crowd, representing (as Leela Daou so eloquently says), the “millions who were born here and millions who were born elsewhere and made the choice to become American citizens…millions of marginalized people of all ages, genders, ethnicities, abilities, sexual orientations, and religious affiliations who have fought and are still fighting tirelessly to be seen and have their voices heard equally.”

People from all walks of life have come together for a larger purpose—longtime supporters standing shoulder-to-shoulder with first generation citizens, curious but as-yet-undecided voters, and people who will cast ballots for the very first time in this pivotal election.

Who says politics can’t be fun?

This little girl carries with pride her research project on Hillary Clinton, says she hopes to get it autographed.

“My hat says it all,” this woman says. Same as Erica Jong, she’s impressed by Hillary’s longstanding support of her favorite causes: civil rights, children’s rights, and women’s rights.

Music pulses through hidden speakers–upbeat tunes from Hillary’s official playlist–as the crowd filters into the Union Hall.

“I’m going to play my Woman Card, says Jamie Lee Curtis to wild applause, before she delivers a fiery introduction.

She’s the Most Admired Woman in the World, 20 times over, the first female to run for the highest leadership position in America. But she greets us warmly, quickly shifts the attention to us.

She leans forward, shakes hands with everyone close and makes eye contact with people in the farthest reaches of the room.

See the blonde head, highlighted by the gold star? That’s me. Soon after that picture was taken by Campaign Staff, I’m nudged even closer to the podium by my thoughtful, ever-so-much taller new friends.

Secret service rim the stage, rove through the crowd and guard the exits. But absent any teleprompters or talking heads, nothing else stands between the Presidential candidate and us.

I’m not one for taking selfies, but quick, look! A Secret Agent man’s lurking over my right shoulder!

Hillary’s energy is palpable, electrifying.

She has a quick wit and an easy laugh, as evidenced by…well, you’ll want to see for yourself. 🙂

Here, a woman who’s not afraid to show the depth and breadth of her emotions, despite what you might’ve read elsewhere.

In this intimate moment, Hillary was recalling for us her first visit to Ground Zero, less than a day after the 9/11 terrorist attacks in NYC. You could’ve heard a pin drop in that union hall as she spoke passionately about the need for a steady hand in similar circumstances.

She spoke in glowing terms about the first responders who worked 24-hour shifts, digging through rubble in a desperate hunt for survivors and then trailing their axes through ashes and soot at the end of the day. In her eyes, you see remembered pain, the untold stories of everything she witnessed. But in the set of her shoulders, you also sense the steely resolve she used to forge ahead, and which she’ll call upon again, as she brings us all together on the road to a better future.

Hillary shines in these intimate settings, specifically chosen over larger stadiums because they highlight the importance of listening over speaking.

Presidential candidates, she says, should prove themselves willing and able to:

1) Make positive differences in the lives of all Americans.

2) Keep us safe.

3) Unify our country—its citizens and its elected leaders.

She paints her vision in vivid strokes, and then offers real-life examples that bring home to Orange County the global issues that affect each of us, far beyond the primary season.

We come away from the event, more committed than ever to work for the ideals she stands for, and to help her take her rightful place in the Oval Office.