The other day someone asked us if we missed the ocean, given how long we lived there.

Brad and I looked at each other — neither of us miss the ocean much, but Brad was first to answer no. (I miss the idea of the beach, but the truth is that I really don’t miss it that much.)

Brad said that the land out here is  kind of like the ocean. The waves in the tall grass here are indeed reminiscent of the waves on the ocean. There is a sense of peace to be gained in watching both.  Someone else commented that, like the ocean, there is also a sea of life beneath the surface of our grasslands. It’s true. This winter whenever we’ve walked outside, flocks of birds have risen from their hiding places in the grass. We know that other animals lurk there too though we seldom see them.

The thing here that reminds me most of the beach is the wide open spaces. When we lived on the beach, we had an infinite view to the west. Here we have an infinite view 360 degrees around us. There are no buildings anywhere to interrupt the horizon. Only a few sporadic low trees and then views all the way to the mountains.

One of the most surprising things about this is how aware we have become of the sun and the moon and how they move throughout the year. Every morning the sun wakes us up and we watch how the timing of shadows and the angle of the light changes with the seasons. While in the summer, the afternoon sun comes in sharply from the west, now in the winter, the afternoon sun is predominantly from the south. (This confirms our decisions about the orientation of the main house and how the clerestory windows should catch the winter sun to warm the adobe wall while not getting the hot summer sun. It is one thing to plan for this based on your intellectual understanding of how the sun moves, but quite another to actually witness it.)

While the sun sets over the canyon due west in the summer, it sets to the south toward Douglas in the winter. The difference in the location in just a few months is startling. It is something I never really noticed living surrounded by other houses and buildings.

Last night, the bright moonlight coming in our window seemed like car headlights shining in. Like the sun, the time and place the moon rises and sets changes dramatically during the month.

Similarly with weather, we see storms coming in from the west or the south and can visually track their progress. There are times when we can see it raining across the highway to the east while it is still bone dry where we are.

The wide open spaces, combined with spending so much time outside, make me feel more rooted to the land, and that makes me feel content. So, no, I really don’t miss the ocean at all.

(House update: It finally got a little warmer late this week. I finished filling the cracks in the slab, and we started scoring the  concrete, which we should finish this week.  We also got a lovely drill press off Craig’s List, which Brad has been looking for for some time.  He now has “an app for that.”)