So we've moved. It is the fifth or sixth time this year; I've lost count. Almost a full year since we've had lodging in our own names, save our week in a little flat in Montreal.

We are both home-loving people, with strong nesting tendencies. We both love travel but from a home base, a safe place to return to. This untethered drifting wears. Despite the continued generosity of friends and family, for which we are grateful, we are yearning for a home of our own.

I am yearning. Lately I have been spending inordinate time on home-decorating sites and with magazines, hoarding images of the house I want to create, building it from electrons and air in lieu of the wood, stone and work that lie presently out of reach.

The chill weather only makes it worse. I want to be burrowing! Soon, says the quiet voice inside. Soon enough.