The End Of The Summer Break

A small cottage in a tiny beach settlement on the West Coast should be the ideal place to escape and forget that the rest of the world exists - sadly now it is not.
Usually the summer months are when the sea behaves itself. In winter we have had the sea foam come frothing through the flax bushes, the ominous rustle announcing the waves raging behind. Once the sea successfully surrounded the cottage buoying our weighty chopping block which began gently thudding against the back door as if asking to be let in. Usually though, throughout the summer the high tide line graciously recedes allowing us to build a small fire, cook our burgers over the embers and watch the sun poetically sink beneath the horizon. But not this year - at high tide the sea was trying to join the barbecue and we were having to schedule dinner around a tide chart. Like a tidal memento mori, the sea is reminding us that things are changing.
As the world continues to process, manufacture and tirelessly chase the questionable holy grail of economic growth, the ecological consequences of our collective activities quietly gather. A new habitat is arriving which will require some thought and adaptation. In an imagined future we may eventually query whether new is always better and take time to rediscover and treasure all the wonderful things that have already been created. We may choose to furnish with antiques instead of manufacturing something new and superfluous. We may remember to value and appreciate the beautifully crafted pieces that already exist, that describe our history and possibly now more than ever have relevance in our modern homes. Then again, quite possibly - we may not.

“The world is so full of a number of things, I ’m sure we should all be as happy as kings.”  
Robert Louis Stevenson