A Photo Diary of our cottage in Madeira Beach
Pause button. If there is a phrase to describe Madeira Beach, it would be that. An easy button for life’s worries, which can often drown out our strongest efforts to be clear.
After our four-hour road trip to the small beach town, I excitedly ran into The Changing Tides, a modest commune where we booked our stay. The miniature community of travelers is a mix as varied as the miscellaneous trinkets, statues and pots with overgrown foliage that populated the courtyard. Kitschy comes to mind as I walk through the stoney path, which opens up to the community BBQ area and the bay.
“Do ya’ll have a boat?” a Southern voice says. It’s Katie, he kind owner who lives on the property. She’s as motley as the common area.
She asks because most of her guests are Florida natives who park their boat and stay on the water. We do not, we respond. It's just us. Our rugged beach quarters are the kind of experience you say Never again and we had only just walked inside. Embracing the glitches are part of being a good soldier in life and travel. A bit of dirt is good for the soul, and it was this attitude that enabled us to embrace our shaggy stopover.
The picture frames of pastel-colored waters and birds remind me of growing up in Florida. Everyone has had this unattractive painting in their home at some point. They’re only distasteful in that way pugs are: they're so ugly they’re cute.