Toward the end of summer, I get introspective and doomy. Where is my life going? Am I spending my time wisely? Did we choose the right tile color for the fireplace? This mode has spilled into Homeward: Last week, I wrote about the importance of neighbors, and this week, I’m mulling people’s tendency to want renovations to be “over with.” Bonus sections on new bedding and my edit of vintage French furniture, glassware, and pottery.

I’m staring out the window of a home that Tad owns with his brother and sister in Wainscott, New York. Looking south from the 130-year-old house, there’s a long lawn fenced in by reeds, then a pond, followed by a narrow strip of beach and the ocean. Right now you can’t see the beach, though, because the storm surge from Hurricane Erin has swallowed the sand. There’s no barrier between the two bodies of water, just a churning maw of water.

The storm will pass, the beach will heal, and then other winds and currents will re-cast the landscape again. The more time you spend here, the more you look for the change. Change reminds us that the earth is vital, a magical force.

I was thinking about how change has reshaped our renovation. For nearly two years, the Ojai house has been constantly evolving. When we began the project, I was in need of a creative reawakening, professionally and personally. I got one and then some in this renovation (not to mention in my career). I learn something nearly every day. Sometimes, it’s about construction details such as French drains and “smurf tubes” (flexible—and, yes, blue—tubing for wiring). But I’m also learning to imagine how a space that doesn’t yet exist will look and feel, how its light will vary from morning to night, how we’ll spend our time at home in a completely new environment.

When I talk to people about their house projects, they often say that they can’t wait for them to “just be done.” The longer our renovation goes on, the more I’ve felt the opposite. Our interior designer (who I'm excited to introduce next month) recently sent us an invite to our last design meeting, and I was stricken—by the prospect of creative decisions coming to an end, and the house taking final, definitive shape.