This Week at the Beach House

I have some good news. We have renewed our least here at the beach house, which means we'll be here for almost 20 more months. Time has really flown by since we moved in and we've grown so attached to the place. 

When we first moved in to this quirky bluff top home, we were thrilled with the view of the ocean and the proximity to the beach. Even as I write this, a squadron of pelicans just cruised by my window. But as much as we loved it last summer, I did worry the charm might fade. I wondered if I might grow sick of the endless and constant sound of the surf crashing. I worried that the foghorns in the harbor, that signal the colder, marine layered days of winter might get me down. And there's the train tracks down below. Distant enough not to be jarring, but we do hear it.  I need not have worried. 

All of these sounds and sights, along with near daily glimpses of sea lions, dolphins and dozens of migrating birds, remain a delight. More than that, they are medicine for my stressed and weary soul. 

The days pass in a distant clanging and whirring rhythm as the commuter and Amtrak trains streak by. A long rattling freight train comes most nights before midnight, reminding me I should already be asleep. In the daytime we count the sailboats and scan the horizon for whale spouts. It is a privilege, and not one we are taking for granted. Particularly in these difficult and uncertain times, I think I prefer checking the breaking surf to the breaking news. 

Yes, my head is (almost literally) in the sand at times but that is ok. The sunsets here are spectacular. My house is well stocked with wine, cheese and chocolate, and I've got a yacht rock playlist on repeat and a very large library of excellent escapist fiction to read.  Plus I have lap kittens. 

If I want to pretend it's a kinder gentler time and world in order to get me thru right now, I will.  

You are welcome to join me.