It is three months this week since we arrived in Hobart, four weeks since we moved into our new house. I’m holding out hope that one day soon I will actually have time to sit down and write a proper blog post again – there is so much that I want to say, and so few hours in the day – but in the meantime, I thought I’d share some photos of what we’ve been up to.
Admiring the colours of spring.
You might have guessed from the silence on here that we have been mid-move again.
Believe it or not, the short move across town has been a lot more challenging than the move across the world was.
In part, that’s because of the physical scale of what we’ve been doing. Rather than walking into a dinky little furnished cottage where we needed to do little more than empty three suitcases into the cupboards, we have been unpacking the contents of a forty-foot container, some of which we only packed up nine weeks ago, but some of which we haven’t seen in over two years. (Hello DorkySon’s old playpen, and random wooden medicine cabinet that I don’t remember ever buying…). We have been trying to fit nearly forty large boxes of books into a house with just one built in bookcase. And for the first time ever, we are in a house with a flight of stairs, which is helping me discover all sorts of new muscles I didn’t even know I had. Continue reading
Exactly seven weeks ago, we landed in Hobart.
Today, we picked up the keys for our new house. We walked around the light, bright empty rooms, imagining how they will look and feel when we move in next weekend. I can’t wait to see them, crammed to bursting with our books and rugs, our paintings and photos, our love and our laughter.
As we were leaving, DorkySon plucked a perfectly ripe fruit from the tree that grows in our new garden.
Anyone for lemonade?
I had my first wobble this week.
It wasn’t so much an oh-my-goodness-I’ve-moved-to-the-other-side-of-the-world wobble as it was a damn-these-hormones-and-the-long-list-of-things-to-do-and-why-isn’t-there-any-chocolate-in-the-house wobble.
But it was a wobble, nonetheless.
So I did what any self-respecting woman would do in that situation. I drank too much wine, cried a lot and had an early night.
It is spring here. I almost feel guilty enjoying it so much, when friends and family back in the UK are posting updates online about the days getting shorter, the mornings getting colder. If I could bundle up some of our Tasmanian spring and send it across to you all, I would.
Last weekend we moved our clocks forward an hour. Not that we needed to – the mornings and the evenings here were already filled with light. The kind of light that makes you run from one window to another, watching it change, holding your breath as the sunbeams catch one cloud, exhaling silently as they shimmer on another.
