I love this home we're in now. It's become more "us" with each passing season. This home cradles us in its cozy spaces and offers peace and shelter and comfort. I do love living here.
There are times when I feel overwhelmed by all the yardwork that needs attention, or walls that need painting, or collections of "stuff" that need sorting...but I know that this dissatisfaction rises within me; it is of my own making.
The house itself doesn't demand any of this from me. All the house requires is to be maintained and be clean and be tidy.
Most of the times I've moved in the past, it has been in the autumn. Perhaps there is something about this season that stirs me to dream of moving, of changes, of starting over, of making a new nest. Perhaps it is some ancient animal instinct about preparing a solid nest for winter, for hibernation, readying a safe, warm space to live a different life. A life that is hibernation, that is restful, that is more interior, more creative.
I don't know. I don't know why I feel this way when the air begins to cool, the morning mists appear and the leaves, a few at a time, begin to display their bright colours.
Something, unseen and nomadic, in me longs to go, to be somewhere else, to start again as the days grow shorter and the nights grow crisp.
It is my personal mystery!