Yurty yurt yurt.

2006 is the year of many things for me.

The Year of the Move Back to Our Roots.
The Year of the Baby Bird. (She was born in November, 2005)
The Year of Nomadic Life.

All of that is fairly obvious to anyone who knows us.

But it is also, for me, the year of Yurt Dreams.

My first yurt-sighting was in the documentary about the Weeping Camel. Amazing film, but the homes of the families kept snagging my eye. Beautifully mobile, simple but with richly painted supports and beautiful textiles. I was intruiged.

Then I looked up yurts online, saw the modern versions, and was absolutely smitten with the architecture and light and space. I started seeing yurt references everywhere. There were even yurts on LOST last summer. I felt haunted by the idea.

I researched yurts as vacation lodging, yurts as vacation homes, yurts as full-time homes. I researched prices, builders, building code issues. At one point, I started drawing floor plans.

Why I want so much to own a yurt is beyond me. I know it can't be as fabulous as I imagine it to be. I've seen pictures of everyday yurt living, and it looks kind of cluttered and awkward-- straight furniture butted up against round walls. I know there can be moisture problems, heating and cooling problems.

My husband laughed at my obsession, and I've pretty much abandoned the idea.

But then I see pictures of their ceilings, and something in me, again, sounds that clear note that I feel when I discover or learn something that's pivotal. (He's going to laugh at this paragraph, too, when he sees it.)

But why do I feel like that?

This idea from a British mom on Flickr who messaged me recently makes me tear up tonight.
Children, gardens, bread, and a yurt as community playspace.

Hmm.