I live close to a beach, now. My childhood was spent in and around the prairies, rolling hills, pastures, grass land, big sky sunsets. All those things are nice, but the seaside is something else.
Since moving here in 1991, I insisted on being house poor and beach location rich as a priority. If I could only afford to live in the far-flung suburbs up the valley, so far from the ocean, I’d rather be back in Alberta. And so we live just a few blocks walk to the beach of White Rock. We don’t have a view of the water, but with a small effort we are there.
Then there is the small matter of the beach house. If it is not connected to the sand with a few footsteps, it can’t really be called that. Technically, I guess. I’m not one for convention. I’ve been trying to make my house into my Pacific Coast dream ever since we took possession 12 years ago. It runs deeper than the decor, it is the feeling you get from a place. My parents always said, “life is what you make it”.
- Light. We take advantage of the sunshine, as it moves through the day and the seasons.
- Creative. The space inspires us to play, contemplate, generate ideas.
- Eat. The kitchen is well stocked to allow experimentation.
- Oasis. Nothing is more important than a relaxing place to let worries float away.
- Rest. The bedrooms are being re-done, room by room, starting with the master. I’ve tried to give us an atmosphere of the beach in every element.
As we enjoy the last days of summer, here at our beach house, I feel like it is as close as possible to being in some exotic place, right on the seaside which we spent a lot of money to rent. In fact, I want each and every day to feel that way. And why can’t it?
It probably comes down to, how active is your imagination? In the dark, rainy days of winter, even the homes on the water’s edge are not a “tropical” beach paradise. But, with some tricks of light, warm and cozy places to rest, a little music, yummy snacks, we are there in spirit.