Jean MacDonald

Wed, 10 Jun 2026 13:49:02 -0800

Wednesday waves for the Pacific Wave Appreciation Society. Video + photo.

Wed, 10 Jun 2026 06:41:09 -0800

I added two new greeting cards to the Well-Tempered Cards shop on Etsy. It’s fun to look at the whole collection, each photo a little capsule of a moment of awe.

Wed, 03 Jun 2026 16:48:10 -0800

Wednesday waves. Video + photo. An overcast misty day, with Starfish Rock in the foreground.

Sun, 31 May 2026 10:34:27 -0800

Seal pup, dropped off on the beach by its mother while she hunts. Video + photo.

Everyone stayed well away, including me. (I was using a telephoto lens.) This little one was determined to get back in the water. / May 30, 2026, 7 am. Low tide.

Wed, 27 May 2026 15:44:37 -0800

It’s been a while since I posted something for the Pacific Wave Appreciation Society. I’m going to try doing a Wednesday Wave series.

For the video, I dusted off my DJI Osmo 3 gimbal to provide a steadier viewing experience. 😇

Shot today at 1:35, swells 6.8 ft. 🌊

Tue, 26 May 2026 12:44:21 -0800

The Photos app surfaced this 2024 photo today. ❤️ Bob (my dad) with the Bob Moore statue at Bob’s Red Mill. I hope they are making pancakes together in heaven. 🥞

Wed, 25 Feb 2026 21:22:54 -0800

The color on the beach at the moment of sunset yesterday. I’m still glowing, just thinking about it. Cropped but no other editing, iPhone 17 Pro.

Thu, 19 Feb 2026 13:15:39 -0800

When I was a little girl, I knew there was a prince in England born the same year as me, and I expected that I would somehow meet him so I could marry him and become a princess. 👸🏼

File that under “careful what you wish for.” 😬

Sat, 14 Feb 2026 07:48:00 -0800

Sneaker wave alert this weekend. Not everyone got the memo.

(The woman did eventually hop up onto the dune, and was not swept away.)

Sat, 10 Jan 2026 16:31:35 -0800

I finally upgraded to the iPhone 17 Pro. The 8x zoom setting is for photographing the wild ocean waves while staying dry on the shore.

Wed, 07 Jan 2026 17:23:41 -0800

The Pacific Ocean listened to my King Tides feedback. Today I saw lots of foamy white waves and the swell height was 12 ft. (video + photo)

Also: big winds, sun, and hail. I wondered if I should be wearing a helmet. Welcome to Oregon coast.

Sun, 04 Jan 2026 12:35:09 -0800

Last day of January King Tides, and last of the season. (video + photo)

My favorite waves were in November. December and January were tame by comparison.

★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ Waves could be bigger and frothier. Will visit again next November.

Sat, 03 Jan 2026 17:55:05 -0800

There are a lot of visitors on our beach in this holiday week. It’s almost impossible to get a photo without dogs in the frame. 🥰

Wed, 31 Dec 2025 12:29:44 -0800

For the Pacific Wave Appreciation Society and anyone who likes watching waves: it’s King Tides Eve, and the sunrise high tide gave a little preview of what’s to come. (photo + video)

Happy New Year to all. 👋🏻 🌊 🌲 🏔️

Fri, 28 Nov 2025 23:24:33 -0800

What a difference a day makes. The treacherous mouth of the Columbia on a sunny less windy morning. Clear enough to see how far the jetty goes. 😮

Fri, 28 Nov 2025 08:00:26 -0800

For the Pacific Wave Appreciation Society: the massive waves at the mouth of the Columbia River, “one of the most treacherous waterways in the world,” as the sign says.

Tue, 18 Nov 2025 15:13:52 -0800

I saw this bumper sticker, and it made me think we need one for the Pacific Wave Appreciation Society. 🌊 (And, on the same walk I spotted a beach fort!)

Wed, 12 Nov 2025 15:03:29 -0800

One of favorite photos from last week’s king tides. Unflappable Seagull is not perturbed by the wind, waves or driftwood. (Nedonna Beach, South Jetty of Nehalem Bay)

(I have to admit I wouldn’t mind getting a “real” camera and zoom for a shot like this.)

Sat, 08 Nov 2025 08:28:54 -0800

It’s King Tide season, keeping your intrepid Pacific Wave and Driftwood correspondent busy!

Here’s Biggish Log, getting tossed around. Despite my prediction, this week it moved another 150 ft. down the beach, not closer to the dune.

Thu, 23 Oct 2025 12:14:36 -0800

For those in the Driftwood Trackers subgroup of the Pacific Wave Appreciation Society, here’s Biggish Log yet another 50 ft. closer to the dunes after another day of sneaker wave alert-level surf. 🌊🌊🌊

Mon, 20 Oct 2025 11:49:28 -0800

An update on Biggish Log after a weekend of sneaker wave activity. It’s moved 110 ft from where it was last week. (You can see the path of What3Words pins.) There are bigger King Tides to come, and I predict it will end up buried in the dunes like Big Log.

Sat, 18 Oct 2025 10:43:04 -0800

We’re coming up on wild winter wave season here on the Oregon coast so I wanted to offer this video + photo for the Pacific Wave Appreciation Society.

PS. That is Biggish Log, 25 ft. long, which hasn’t moved much since May. That’s why you stay away from driftwood during a sneaker wave alert.

Inundation: not the wave I was expecting

Tue, 19 Aug 2025 09:58:25 -0800

(This post is #34 in my Substack series, Metaphor Mondays.)

Late afternoon on July 29, an earthquake measuring 8.8 on the Richter scale struck eastern Russia. I was on my bed, taking a nap. I had spent another exhausting week in Portland with my 90-year-old dad, who was receiving hospice care. He’d been living with my sister and brother-in-law for a year, since his kidney cancer surgery. On that Tuesday, I had headed back to the coast for a few days rest, according to a break schedule my three siblings and I had agreed on.

The earthquake struck at 4:24 pm Pacific time. I woke about an hour later to see the many earthquake alerts. I subscribed to these alerts ever since I first learned how close I live to the Cascade Subduction Zone (Metaphor Monday #12). This earthquake occurred on the Kuril-Kamchatka Subduction Zone. It resulted in a massive shift of water, a typical cause of tsunamis. We were warned hours in advance of the potential for a long distance tsunami to arrive on our coast. Eventually, there was some damage to the U.S West Coast in the early hours of July 30. I went out to the beach in the morning for a bit, which is when I got this photo of the advisory sign.

Even though I was supposed to stay home for a few days, I decided to leave again on that afternoon. My siblings had described a very rough night settling my father into a new hospital bed. I couldn’t relax being two hours away. I knew I wanted to be there for them all at the end. And it came on Thursday, July 31.

Ever since I moved to the coast, the tsunami as metaphor has loomed large. When I contemplate such great forces outside of my control, the fragility of existence is clear. But today I realized that a tsunami is a near perfect metaphor for grief.

Far out at sea, ships might not notice a tsunami. The waves don’t crest and the swells are spread out. But they are quietly moving very fast. When they approach the shore, they pick up height, and then the water is relentless. I’ve watched lots of footage of the recent Indian Ocean and Japanese tsunamis. Manzanita will have some warning before the arrival of the terrifying wave that will inundate our town. But the foreknowledge can’t stop it.

There’s been an undercurrent all the years that I’ve watched the decline in my dad’s vitality. A foreboding: a loss is on its way. I knew I would grieve, but I didn’t know what it would be like.

I’ve come through the initial inundation. The water has receded, exposing the flotsam and jetsam of feelings. Strong love and gratitude for my family. Confusing feelings of resentment and frustration that I didn’t have some kind of movie-quality breakthrough in mutual understanding with my father. Uncertainty and dread—and a hint of the freedom that comes when I am reminded that life is truly short and I need to stop second guessing myself.

Tsunamis come in a “wave train.” It is not one and done, and I know it’s the same for grief and me. But I’m ready to get back to my life.

Above: Bob MacDonald, Sr., my dear dad, on a misty Manzanita Beach morning last summer when I saw my first fogbow. Below: the author with her 25-year-old father in Miami, soaking up the joy of being daddy’s girl and first child.

Metaphor Monday #34

Impermanence

Mon, 28 Jul 2025 21:24:33 -0800

It’s not impermanence that makes us suffer. What makes us suffer is wanting things to be permanent when they are not. – Thich Nhat Hanh

Big Log, pictured above, arrived on Manzanita Beach in January. It was an impressive presence at 32 ft. long and 2.5 ft. in diameter. Winter storms eventually pushed Big Log up next to the dunes in March.

Recently, the sand level has shifted. I have been away from the beach most of the summer, so I notice it during my brief visits home. Now Big Log is practically buried in new sand drifts. (below right)

The same thing is happening to Biggish Log (only 25 ft. long), which arrived in May and hasn’t moved much.

It’s driftwood. I know that impermanence is suggested right there in the name. But I’ll always be a little sad when familiar things change. Or disappear altogether.

Metaphor Monday #33

Thu, 17 Jul 2025 11:24:47 -0800

Life has been chaotic for me lately. I’ve been busy with family stuff in Portland most of July. But I did get back to the coast for a very misty morning, and wanted to to share some chaotic wave footage with the Pacific Wave Appreciation Society, plus a seagull who also appreciates the waves.