autumn

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.”

SaveSave

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.

SaveSave

Summer’s end: a meditation and celebration

September 4, 2017 by Melodye Shore

The tides are shifting, and there are subtle changes in the slant of light that shines through the sycamore trees at dawn. Summer’s waning, and here we are again, drifting slowly into autumn.

In Southern California, the changes are more subtle. And yet every season brings ashore its own treasures. This is just one of the secrets I learned by reading Ann Morrow Lindberg’s beautiful book, Gift from the Sea.

I thumbed through my copy again last week…familiar passages, fresh insights. Like this one, which speaks to me of nature’s transitions, and to the more intimate changes in our own lives.

Perhaps this is the most important thing for me to take back from beach-living:

simply the memory that each cycle of the tide is valid;

each cycle of the wave is valid;

each cycle of a relationship is valid.

And my shells? I can sweep them all into my pocket.

They are only there to remind me that the sea recedes and returns eternally.

SaveSave

Within this pomegranate, tiny seeds of truth

September 1, 2015 by Melodye Shore

Pomegranates evoke one of my favorite memories of early autumn. Juicy red temptations, packed with tiny seeds of promise.

And still…September, already?

‘Tis the season for reflection, falling leaves and drifting thoughts.

I’m good with retrospectives. As a memoirist, I probably glance in my rear view mirror more often than most. But I’m trying not to dwell in the past or anchor my dreams to a future date, uncertain. Be here, now, I tell myself. There are gifts in this very moment, ripe for the picking.

SoCal Autumn

November 14, 2011 by Melodye Shore

Camellias are blooming against the back fence, and when I snapped this picture, a hummingbird whirred past…

I'm tucked into my writing, and the tea pot's whistling on the stove…

November…It's a harbinger of winter in other places, but where I live, it's yet another season of growth. The light slants different, but there's plenty of sun and warmth. I'm grateful for another birthday month, another season in which to give thanks for this and other blessings.

.

Falling into autumn

October 14, 2009 by Melodye Shore

Come said the wind to
the leaves one day,
Come o’re the meadows
and we will play.
Put on your dresses
scarlet and gold,
For summer is gone
and the days grow cold.
–a children’s song from the 1880’s

The temperatures are hovering in the 60s, and rainwater’s flowing down the parched hillsides, dousing fires as it quenches the thirsty chaparral. A hummingbird is perched on our backyard feeder, showering the begonias as she shakes her rain-soaked wings. You have to look hard to find them, perhaps, but these are signs of early autumn in the land of year-round foliage and (almost) perpetual sunshine.

These seasonal changes are different, of course, than the ones I saw in rural New England. The skies were wooly-gray much of the time, whether from misty rain or wood burning fireplaces. No worries, though—I just bundled up, downed some diet hot chocolate, and traded my flip-flops (temporarily) for warm socks and closed-toe shoes.

My little Coolpix doesn’t do fashion shoots all that well, but Mother Nature knows how to compensate. Here she is, all decked out in her autumn finery.

I am glad for the overcast skies, glad also for the rainfall. I’m especially happy, though, to settle into home again. Today I’m going to turn on the gas fireplace, cozy up under my crocheted afghan, and find my way back into my writing.

But first, how ’bout I put on the teakettle? I’m craving your company this morning. LiveJournal is lonely these days, don’t you think? Tell me what fall looks like in your neck of the woods. One lump of sugar or two? And would you like a slice of lemon? Tell me, please, what’s the latest with you and yours?