Quiet Riot

As for those delicate cherry blossoms, they're mostly white with a faint blush of pink and cover the treetops like soft clouds. But the effect is surprisingly weighty and prompts a feeling of quiet -- in the same contradictory way that softly falling snow blankets the woods with a heaviness and hush.

Perhaps not difficult to imagine if you're Canadian?

Full Circle Evening

Tonight, I came almost literally 'full circle.'

Some of you might remember our house hunting trip here in DC at the beginning of January 2011. Two days before that trip, Adam got maybe the worst flu I have ever seen and I wasn't feeling too hot either. But we really had to come down here and find a place to live! So, we loaded our achy bodies onto the plane and threw down stakes at the Carlyle Suites in the heart of DC's incredible northwest quadrant. For the next week, the Carlyle was our urban hideaway. We were so sick that, besides finding a place to live, we did next to nothing. Our days consisted mostly of watching football on TV and walking to Whole Foods on P Street for lunch.

But, for some reason, it was a magical time. Maybe because things sort of stopped moving for a few days (at a time when our stress levels at home were through the roof). Whatever the reason, in my mind, that week felt like a turning point away from one place and time and toward another here in DC.

After dinner tonight, I nipped out the door to a nutrition class at the Smith Center for Healing and the Arts.

First, I zipped up M Street, past the hotels and condo buildings, turned left at Meiwah Chinese, headed up New Hampshire and crossed Dupont Circle, stopping for a moment to take off my cardigan. The temperature got up to twenty-six degrees today and the whole neighbourhood came out to relax in the circle. Bikers, chess players, people on iPads, even ducks in the base of the fountain.

Past the circle, I passed runners and yuppies with yoga mats, people carrying grocery bags and couples coming back from the off-leash dog park. Then, on my right, a small hotel began to stand out from the colours and rhythms of the street. I noted nothing particularly special about its tidy architecture, but it seemed somehow to possess an extraordinary character. As I walked closer, I was pleasantly surprised to see that it was the Carlyle, my former (albeit brief) stomping ground, and the place where this journey began.

I then smiled as I realized that now I too, have become a quietly extraordinary part of the landscape of the city.

Writing It Out

For a writer, there is no greater way to work things out than by writing them out. In emailing a dear friend today, I realised some valuable insights about our experience in DC.

Here's the final paragraph of that message.

"Our time in Washington is now half over and half is yet to come. This semi-nomadic state of affairs is so exciting...and at times, tiring and, obviously unsettling in a material/practical sense. But for us, it is so worth it. We have, I think, come to see our move not only as a physical relocation, but also an experiment and revelation of self. So, in that respect, this experience has far exceeded our expectations."

As our journey here has unfolded, I've often struggled to explain why we love it here so much. Admittedly, DC has undeniable charms (free museums and galleries and a pool on the roof of our building are chief among them). But, it's so much more than those tangible things. The chance to take chances and grow has been one of the greatest rewards of our young lives. And so, we can't but help but to feel right at home.

We heart DC.