Darkness comes so much earlier than I am prepared for that I know it must be winter. The leaves have turned to mud, then frozen; last weekend ice sheeted a bridge so that I crept across it in first gear, with no attention to spare for the dozens of cars collected along the guardrail. Sunlight has taken on a miraculous quality, the sky turned pale and cold. My poor California blood grows sluggish and the haul out of bed in the morning harder even than usual.

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.

We're moving again. This time we'll be in one place for almost two months; don't ask me what we're doing after that, because I don't know.

We're moving again to somewhere without internet access (though we'll have a cell service this time, so we won't be cut off from the world completely). I'll miss you, internet. But I'll probably get more done.

We had a lovely honeymoon in Montréal: quiet, indulgent, with very few plans and plenty of time. We caught up on our sleep and snuggles from the wedding madness, reacquainted ourselves with each others' faces (almost alarming how little we actually saw each other over the wedding weekend itself), and had the most outrageous and delicious dinner of our lives.




We visited the Botanical Gardens, and spent the entire afternoon amongst the trees and flowers. In the evening, we visited their lantern display, which was beautiful but insanely crowded.


On our final day, we met Beth and J., in front of the beautiful Anglican church (with a mall underneath!), and walked to Chinatown for a fabulous dim sum lunch. The restaurant had a twenty-minute wait, and inside was full of bustle and the cheerful impatience of the cart-bearers, crying their wares - noodles, noodles! shrimps, shrimps! - and giving each table about two full seconds to respond before shooting off towards new customers to ignore. Still, we somehow managed to fill our bellies with delicious food and the hour with good conversation. How lovely to finally meet in person someone whom I've been following and admiring so long online.

All in all, a perfect week.