As a girl highly influenced by the changing of the season, I tend to want to redecorate when the weather changes. Whichever season is setting in is my favorite. In the summer I want nothing more than to run away to a the beach, spending my days with my feet in the sand, sun on my face, and my nights nestled in a cedar shake clad beach cottage with windows flung open to let the breeze drift through. Pale shades of creamy white with accent shades of sky blue and sea glass turquoise would fill the interior. I picture myself reading a book on a cozy window seat while light, gauzy, sheer curtains waft in the breeze and an icy drink in a mason jar sits close at hand with beads of moisture condensing on the glass and a straw propped jauntily on the rim. Ahhhh, summer.
Then autumn sets in and I'm filled with giddiness as the leaves turns a thousand brilliant shades and the comforting scent of wood smoke mixes with the crisp fresh air. I bundle up in sweaters and scarves and dream of cable knit throw blankets and crackling fires and hot cocoa. Chocolate browns and pumpkin orange and aged cream. . .
But fall, my true favorite, never lasts long enough. And winter rain sets in, only broken by the festive cheeriness of holiday cheer; white and red and silver and glass and evergreen fill my home. And of course the whispering of anticipation, cheerfulness and good will, and the secret hope for snow.
Finally, spring arrives in bursts of color; white and pink and yellow. . . bursts of happiness and unbidden smiles and peeks of sunshine. I want to throw open my window and fill turquoise mason jars with pink flowering plum blossoms and full, white peonies and pale, fragrant lilacs. . .
Every season is distinct.
So you see, it was a little strange to find myself headed for the coast on a gray and misty autumn morning, driving past fields of spent corn and forests of fiery autumn splendor, listening to Christmas music. . . on my way to tour a few beach houses.
It was all mixed up.
But somehow we'd strung together the best of all the seasons, and once at the beach the sun was peeking through. And no matter how you slice it, the first house we saw screamed summer. It was enough to make me giddy, no matter the season. . .