Envision a classic beach house. A kind of sophisticated shanty, where sand and wood meet. There is a fireplace in the center of the living room, on both sides of the fire are large tinted windows that show a completely unobstructed view of the sea and sand. And at night, the twinkle of village lights from Cayucos, on the other, Morro Rock jutting so high from the beach it has it own micro-climate. A cloud of mist encircles the top of the great rock with blue sky all around.
The sliding glass door is open allowing a cool ocean breeze in. It mixes well with the sound of its serf, a fireplace keeps us warm, comfortable and brings the magic back of of days as a teenager huddled around a fire pit at the beach with friends toasting marsh-mellows on sticks.
A writer's retreat, a dacha, where you can't do much of anything else except walk on the beach and write your thoughts upon return. I haven't walked on the beach yet, but I sure plan too. And that's the rub. How do you fit a lifetime of leisure into a week? There are no phones to answer, no mail to read or garden to tend. There is the beach, the fireplace and a view. Life is a beach.
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