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He built a mini-Disneyland in his backyard — and you can walk through it this spring

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He built a mini-Disneyland in his backyard — and you can walk through it this spring

The castle is immaculate, its gold etching regal and its towers a bold shade of sky blue. The band at its gates plays no real instruments, but the musicians look dapper and at the ready. Before it all sits an elongated train station, a mix of Victorian grandeur and small-town affability. Look in the distance — there’s a Southern-style mansion, multiple distinct mountains and even another castle, this one nestled at the top of a mound, its spires peering over a wall.

All of it is familiar. It’s Disneyland, mostly.

The iconic entrance to Disneyland, re-created in the Sheegogs’ Anaheim backyard.

(Wally Skalij / Los Angeles Times)

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But the setting, the backyard of a modest suburban home in Anaheim Hills, makes it clear this is no official product of the Walt Disney Co. Yet fans flock to it, with free tickets for the rare open house disappearing often in minutes. Welcome to Castle Peak and Thunder Railroad, as David Sheegog calls his backyard garden, home to a miniature love letter to Disneyland and Disney animation. Creating this scaled-down universe has been a passion of his for about a quarter of a century now.

Over the decades, Castle Peak has garnered the attention of local media, become a social media darling and grown with the Sheegog family, as what once was meant to be a gift for his children has taken on a life of its own. The kids have left home, but Castle Peak continues to flourish.

As Sheegog, an independent architect, looks forward to retirement — he turned 65 last year but is still in practice — he speaks of Castle Peak as if it’s just getting started. Walk with Sheegog to the family garage and find not just storage but a workshop, currently home to a model for a “Star Wars”-inspired entryway that Sheegog hopes will someday lead to a new section of his backyard garden, this one inspired by Disneyland’s Star Wars: Galaxy’s Edge.

David and Frances Sheegog pose with their mini-Disneyland in their Anaheim Hills home.

(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)

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This is no mere modest hobby. That’s apparent not just in the details but in the way Sheegog today thinks of entertaining guests, who are welcomed each spring and fall.

There are small but irresistible touches. Sheegog’s version of the Casey Jr. Circus Train is equipped, for instance, with its own sound module, playing the locomotive’s theme song as it chugs across a bridge. But over the years, Sheegog has embraced his showman side. A recent addition to the patio is what Sheegog calls the “enchanted tiki waterbar,” where a glass window erupts into a thunder and lightning show, complete with a mini-rain storm created by a pump and reservoir.

While the actual Disneyland Resort is just a few minutes from the Sheegog home, Castle Peak speaks to the way the theme park can become a sort of communal hub that can touch multiple generations and stand as something for which people can connect around. For many in Southern California, Disneyland sits somewhere between a landmark and a rite of passage, a place of familial and friendship rituals that stays with you long after the grand finale of the evening’s fireworks.

The Sheegogs’ much smaller version of the iconic statue of Walt Disney and Mickey Mouse, whose real-life counterpart graces the entrance to the magic castle at Disneyland.

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A miniature model of the floating balloon house from “Up.” (Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)

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Fans walk in the backyard of the Sheegogs’ home, lifting themselves up over the brick walls to look a little closer at the miniatures laid out in front of them.

(Wally Skalij / Los Angeles Times)

Sheegog believes that’s one reason why his backyard, also home to a 105-year-old Chinese elm bonsai, can barely meet its demand.

“There was a woman here one time, and she was close to 100,” Sheegog says. “She worked in the park on opening day, when Walt Disney was there, and worked in the park her whole life. She had a whole crowd around her, just listening to stories about what it was like. She started weeping. As she was talking, she was reliving her life when she was 20 years old, her first love, where she met her husband. All these memories come back, and a lot of people who come here are that way because we’re in Anaheim. We grew up with the park, and it has a certain sentimental niche in your psyche. People just want to be around it, and our place provides an outlet for that.”

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Sheegog kind of stumbled into model railroading. About 25 years ago he was perusing for a gift for a young nephew, now in his 30s, who was a fan of “Thomas the Tank Engine.” Shopping for the latter at a local railroad store, the Orange County native who grew up within walking distance to Disneyland was suddenly hooked by the model railroad industry. Things quickly spiraled.

“This was back in 1997 or so, and I said, ‘This will be a 10-year project.’ As I developed the model — I built a model on our dining room table — we had to decide on the major structures,” Sheegog says. “Most of the garden railroads I had seen people had bought pre-made kits of little plastic buildings that are all about 12 inches by 8 inches. They look like premade little buildings, like a barber shop. No. I wanted to build this from scratch, and wanted them to be impressive, like 5 feet across and 4 feet tall. Or in the case of one our castles, 7 feet tall. I had to plan these out as to where the major buildings would be.”

Mini-riders descend down the slope of a shrunken-down Splash Mountain.

An homage to Mulan in a small potted plant. (Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)

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A mini-Merida stands proudly within a circle of rocks.

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References to Disneyland’s It’s a Small World ride are nestled in small pots around the Sheegogs’ attraction.

At the time, he was thinking of set pieces that would look akin to mini-golf buildings. Sheegog once worked at Disneyland on the Davy Crockett’s Explorer Canoes, and the family’s eldest daughter is named Ariel after “The Little Mermaid.” Thus, Disneyland was a natural theme for the family to explore for the backyard garden. And the Walt Disney Co., of course, has a romanticized history with railroads, as Walt Disney once had a backyard railway of his own and is said to have dreamed up Mickey Mouse on a cross-country train trip.

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A Disney-inspired backyard is not, necessarily, an anomaly in American suburbia. HGTV once ran a show dedicated to the practice, and in the early days of the pandemic it became a social media trend to re-create Disney rides at home, with fans experimenting with rudimentary special effects and bringing pets into the action. Some have even built makeshift roller coasters in the yards.

Young visitors look out onto a portion of a railroad and lagoon-like setting within the Sheegogs’ massive attraction.

(Wally Skalij / Los Angeles Times)

And today, there are host of businesses that attempt to tap the Disney fanbase. One can find elaborately themed homes for rent, as well as pop-up bars such as Montclair’s the Set, which rotates among Disney motifs throughout the year.

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Sheegog’s creation has both a professional sheen and a do-it-yourself quality. It’s important to note that it will always be free, as the family doesn’t want to attract the attention of corporate lawyers — timed reservations are required solely to make sure the home and neighborhood aren’t overrun. Aside from Sheegog’s heavily detailed, multiple foot structures — he’s re-created references to the now-defunct Splash Mountain and Disney/Pixar films such as “Up” — he’s also peppered in hidden nods to most every Disney or Pixar animated film from 1937 (“Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs”) to 2021 (“Encanto”).

“That will be the last one,” Sheegog says of “Encanto.” “I’ve finally put a cap on it. I’ve got 80 films out there. It’s a bunch. I’m running out of room. If they keep coming out, I can’t keep doing something. All my energy is going into other projects with the railroad.”

When Sheegog builds a structure, it’s no simple feat. Occasionally, he says, he’ll get inquiries from guests on the cost of hiring Sheegog to build, say, a Sleeping Beauty Castle. “They think you can do it for $300 or $400, and I say, ‘It’s probably going to be about $70,000 to build that thing again,” he says. “It takes someone six months of their life to build that.”

Money isn’t a topic Sheegog likes to discuss — “We are not wealthy people here, and I’m trying to figure out a way to retire because there’s not a way to do it right now” — and he’s quick to add that the castle didn’t cost him tens of thousands; he’s simply factoring in labor costs. He estimates that over the last two decades he’s sunk what would be the equivalent of buying a pool into his backyard Disneyland.

The investment shows. His initial Sleeping Beauty Castle was built utilizing plywood, PVC, wood turnings and cast resin veneer, but he has since updated the structure with largely polyurethane foam boards and 3D-printed materials. There are detailed galleries on his website documenting the builds of a number of structures, including Rapunzel’s tower and Beast’s castle.

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Tinker Bell, nestled in a green forest scene with her fellow Pixie Hollow fairies.

(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)

The Skyway, which no longer exists in the IRL Disneyland, is preserved as a reference in the Sheegogs’ backyard attraction.

(Wally Skalij / Los Angeles Times)

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A key appeal of Castle Peak is that it doesn’t try to re-create Disneyland, per se: an equal number of miniatures reference animated films as they do park attractions. For the latter, Sheegog includes some that no longer exist, including the Skyway, a set he purchased from Von Roll Model Ropeways rather than built, as well as some references to Florida’s Walt Disney World.

Nothing feels incongruous. Disneyland, after all, exists as much in our memories and our imaginations as it does at 1313 Disneyland Drive.

Castle Peak and Thunder Railroad

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Today, Sheegog is talking about moving the retaining wall on the house to further expand Castle Peak, wanting two new sections, one that nods to Disneyland’s Mine Train Through Nature’s Wonderland, which closed to make way for Big Thunder Mountain, and the aforementioned Galaxy’s Edge expansion. Time and money are hurdles, though, and he’s considered crowd-funding for Castle Peak’s continued development.

And yet that’s another aspect to Castle Peak’s enduring appeal. Like Disneyland, it’s never finished. “It’s like little home additions,” Sheegog says. “But rather than putting on a new bedroom we’re going to do another mountain or another rock feature.”

And it’s all in the name of capturing a little bit of magic.

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We’re having a main character summer. Are you? : It’s Been a Minute

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We’re having a main character summer. Are you? : It’s Been a Minute
Are you ready for a whirlwind summer romance?Making plans to capitalize on summer can get overwhelming – from finding the right spot to hang or feeling comfortable in your clothes in the sweltering summer heat. So what does it mean to approach summer with a romantic joie de vivre?  Brittany is joined by Carly Olson, freelance journalist covering architecture and business, and Garrett Schlichte, writer and chef, to walk us through how to have a rom-com summer where you’re the star.Want more on how to be the best version of yourself? Check out these episodes:How to make friends & get good gossipIt only takes 30 minutes to be a good momSupport Public Media. Join NPR Plus.Follow Brittany on Instagram: @bmluseFor handpicked podcast recommendations every week, subscribe to NPR’s Pod Club newsletter at npr.org/podclub.
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Vintage-obsessed millennial parents are driving L.A.’s booming kids’ clothing resale market

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Vintage-obsessed millennial parents are driving L.A.’s booming kids’ clothing resale market

Kids’ vintage clothing sales are experiencing a remarkable boom at in-person markets and online, where prices for clothes for little ones have shot up on websites including Depop and Poshmark. Millennial parents are looking to outfit their kids in the clothes and TV and film characters they loved (or coveted) when they were kids.

The result? There’s a new generation of kiddos hitting the playground looking incredibly cool. Take Amari Case, a SoCal toddler who spent a Sunday afternoon this spring ambling around a vintage market in a West Hollywood warehouse clad in baggy jeans and a ’90s-era tee emblazoned with the “Dragon Ball Z” character Son Goku.

When she wasn’t scribbling on a Lorax coloring sheet, she’d been cruising around the market with her dad, Aaron Munoz Case, snapping up new pieces destined to make her the flyest kid at the preschool playground.

Neil Wright, from left, Kristine Nite Scalzo and Brandon Rosenblatt, co-founders of Elemeno Kids Vintage Market.

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Showing off Amari’s new vintage satin L.A. Raiders jacket and tiny teal Grant Hill Detroit Pistons jersey, Munoz Case, who was also impeccably dressed, noted that while Amari went through a phase at about 18 months where she wanted to dress herself, eventually she gave up and went back to letting her dripped-out dad dictate her wardrobe.

Munoz Case found Amari’s first vintage piece at the Rose Bowl Flea Market and got the bug, going back every month to pick up something to add to his little’s wardrobe.

Trendspotters and researchers say Munoz Case isn’t alone in his quest. The market for kids’ vintage clothing has heated up precipitously over the last few years, perhaps hitting a boiling point in January when an Eeyore romper from the ’90s sold for over $3,000 on EBay. (It was new with tags, but one without tags still went for almost a grand about a month later.)

The thirst for tiny throwbacks is so popular that first-ever, all-kids market Elemeno — named after the “L-M-N-O” bit of “The Alphabet Song” and where Amari was toddling and shopping — drew 17 vendors and over 2,000 attendees over a single weekend in March. (There are plans for another Elemeno Kids Vintage Market pop-up later this year in New York, as well as plans to bring the event back to L.A. sometime next year.)

1

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A child and mom seated.

2 A child wearing an Avirex jacket from the ’90s.

1. Cameron Scalzo, wearing a vintage McDonald’s T-shirt from the ‘90s, and mom Kristine Nite Scalzo. 2. Cameron Scalzo rocks an Avirex jacket from the ‘90s.

Eye Speak Vintage’s Kristine Nite Scalzo, who co-organized the event and is opening an all-kids vintage store in Pasadena this month, says she fell under the kids vintage spell in 2020 when she was pregnant with her son. She’d always been a vintage shopper for herself, so she knew she wanted to pass the passion down to the next generation. She started filling up her son’s closet, and soon enough, she found herself selling her other finds out of a bodega in her garage.

She has a by-appointment space in Pasadena now, where she draws everyone from Rihanna’s stylist to out-of-town moms who make a point to stop by on their way to Disneyland. “The community around kids vintage has really skyrocketed on Instagram over the past six years,” Scalzo says. “We want to know who we’re buying from. We want to know that we’re doing good with buying secondhand. And it’s a hobby for people that can turn into a possible business on the side. Because knowing there’s a big group that’s interested in vintage kids clothes, you can always pass an item [your kid outgrows] to someone else or resell it.”

Scalzo says some parents are out digging through bins at the Goodwill Outlet looking for the perfect piece, while others are content to pay up for, say, a ’90s Simpsons T-shirt or a mini-size Harley-Davidson jacket. Scouring the racks at the Elemeno market, most pieces cost $15 to $40, though there were special pieces pulled to the side in some booths with price tags that could make a parent’s eyes pop. (Think $275 for a set of well-worn Spider-Man overalls from the ’00s or $150 for a pair of Cross Colours denim shorts from the ’90s.)

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In kids and adult vintage alike, mint condition is highly valued. No matter the era in which they were raised, kids tend to be messy. They get strawberry juice on their shirts or scuff up the knees on their Bugle Boy jeans. Vintage kids clothes that look pristine are more expensive, and while plain kids clothes do sell, items with characters on them or cool prints tend to draw more attention and dollars.

Brandon Rosenblatt, another of the Elemeno organizers, says he’s had his eye on a specific kids “Back to the Future” shirt for some time, but notes that it typically sells for about $1,000. He’s partial to McKids clothes for his daughter, from McDonald’s short-lived kids clothing brand, noting that he’s even snagged her a vintage official McDonald’s-themed aloha shirt from Hawaii, something he says he’s never seen anywhere else.

1 Siblings Amora and Milo Castilo wear vintage cowboy hats, jackets and chaps.

2 Thalia Castilo and her kids Amora and Milo.

1. Siblings Amora and Milo Castilo wear vintage cowboy hats, jackets and chaps. 2. Thalia Castilo and her kids Amora and Milo.

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Other collectors, he says, might be a little less obscure, leaning into mainstream characters such as Strawberry Shortcake or from ’80s and ’90s properties including “The Land Before Time” and “Rugrats.”

“A lot of millennials are having kids — like everyone who’s in their 30s and 40s — and they all want to put their kids in the same IP they grew up in,” Rosenblatt says.

“It’s the thrill of the hunt that gets everyone so excited,” Scalzo says. “Once you find that perfect nostalgic piece, you’re like ‘Holy s—,’ and you just want to chase that feeling again and again.”

Mia De La Rosa, a reseller who was at the Elemeno market, says that like Scalzo, she started buying kids vintage clothes when she was pregnant with her daughter, Liv, who’s 6 now, very into everything on PBS Kids and has a closet full of thrifted vintage garb covered in characters such as D.W., the annoying little sister from the ’90s show “Arthur.”

Everything Liv wears is “completely her style,” De La Rosa says. “She dresses herself every day and she gets compliments on what she’s wearing at school all the time.”

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Other vintage-wearing kids — and in particular younger ones — might simply be sporting what their parents like or might just like the look of the shirt even if they don’t know what it’s advertising. (An 8-year-old boy at the Elemeno market, for instance, chose to wear a pristine T-shirt highlighting the ’90s Jim Carrey movie “The Mask” because it featured his favorite color: green.)

Derrick Broaster, a vintage enthusiast turned full-time reseller, says that while he chooses to put himself in clothes from the ’60s and ’70s, he outfits his two sons in clothes from the 2000s. (“How Bow Wow used to dress when he was a kid,” he says.)

Although his younger son tends to rebel against Broaster’s vintage picks, opting for whatever Spider-Man shoes happen to be in his eyeline, his older son has leaned in, letting his dad advise him on what vintage pieces could work and what would be the most stylish.

1 Brothers pose for a portrait wearing vintage clothing.

2 A family poses for a portrait wearing vintage clothing.

1. Julian, left, and Javier Gutierrez show off their vintage clothing. Javier says his mom always tells him to keep his vintage outfits clean. 2. Mom Priscilla Guzman, clockwise, Dad Javier Gutierrez and sons Julian and Javier Gutierrez enjoy the vibe of vintage clothing. Guzman says she’s been buying and selling kids’ vintage since her oldest son was born eight years ago.

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Rosenblatt says a good portion of what vintage finds he sees in the market now has returned to the U.S. from places in Central America and South America or Asia where those pieces were likely sent decades ago after they were donated or given away.

“There’s a real underbelly of this vintage game with rag houses getting access to bulk product overseas and letting people sort through it,” he says. “There are companies now that rip through 20, 30 or 40,000 pieces of vintage clothing a week. It’s a really interesting ecosystem.”

For many kids vintage sellers, finding their stock is just as fun and interesting as getting it back into consumers’ hands. “Anywhere we can find clothes, we’re there,” says Matthew Carlos, owner of Long Gone Youth. He started selling vintage clothes 11 years ago, when he was 15, switched to kids vintage at 20 and has spent the last six years scouring flea markets, websites and swap meets.

“The kids market is definitely growing,” he says, “but I still feel like we haven’t even gotten close to where we can go. It’s just getting popular now, but the more events [like Elemeno] we can do, the more it’ll go mainstream.” Even now, some major brands like Gap and OshKosh B’gosh have recognized the interest in some of their styles from the ’80s and ’90s, moving to re-release the looks in limited runs.

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Jackie and Frank Oropeza with daughter Rumi Mae shop at Elemeno Kids Vintage Market.

Jackie and Frank Oropeza with daughter Rumi Mae shop at Elemeno Kids Vintage Market.

Kids resale is also leaning into streetwear culture. Rosenblatt, who worked in the streetwear industry, says that he’s noticed that a good portion of those interested in kids vintage — particularly, male shoppers — tend to be fans of streetwear brands like Supreme, Fear of God Essentials and Bape. At Elemeno, for instance, a good portion of the parents we saw pushing strollers were well-dressed dads seemingly on solo missions, something you don’t always see at kid-centric events.

“I just want my son to feel like I did as a kid,” said Justin Nguyen, while watching his toddler, Jayden, play with bubbles. “I want him to be happy, carefree and joyful, and I want to be able to spend time with him. My mom and dad were always working, even on the weekends. Now that I’m a dad, taking my son out on weekends to do stuff like this just seems like a blessing.”

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‘Hellions’ author Julia Elliott wins $150K fiction prize

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‘Hellions’ author Julia Elliott wins 0K fiction prize

Author Julia Elliott won for her short story collection Hellions.

Forrest Clonts/Tin House


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Forrest Clonts/Tin House

Writer Julia Elliott has won this year’s Carol Shields Prize for Fiction for her short story collection Hellions. The award honors work by women and nonbinary authors in the U.S. and Canada.

Elliott, who also authored the novel The New and Improved Romie Futch and the short story collection The Wilds, is known for blending elements of Southern gothic horror, surrealism and fairy tale. Hellions, published in 2025, includes stories set against backdrops like a plague-stricken medieval convent, a feminist art colony, and small Southern towns.

“This eerie, eclectic, genre-leaping collection takes no half-measures; every sentence of Hellions crackles or crawls,” wrote the prize jury in a statement. “Here, human folly moves against a backdrop of horror and magic … But for all its wildness, there is tremendous control.”

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The prize, named after a Pulitzer Prize-winning novelist, awards $150,000 to one winner each year. Novels, short story collections, and graphic novels by women and nonbinary authors are eligible.

This year’s finalists included Quiara Alegría Hudes (The White Hot), Lee Lai (Cannon), Megha Majumdar (A Guardian and a Thief), and Sonya Walger (Lion). They will each receive $12,500.

The Carol Shields Prize went to writer Canisia Lubrin in 2025.

You can listen to actor Donna Lynne Champlin read Elliott’s story “Hellion” on the Death, Sex & Money podcast here.

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