13 November 2017

a moment i was happy to live inside.

-- us, in his eyes, one brilliant afternoon. november light is unlike any other. it's like butter, like spun gold, and i find myself chasing its story.

we've arrived in month seven and the sweetness of awaiting a baby and the slowness of these cold months late in the year make for deeply romantic days. conversations are hopeful and pumpkin pies cool on the sill and hours are knit of wonder and magic in the very way i have always known the holidays to be — family and strong coffee and bundled walks and love and pretty parcels and anticipation and gratitude and surprises and belief and the jingle of the wind in the trees, or maybe it's bells, who can really say, things intangible, things seen, holy promises and possibilities and prayer made manifest.

1 comment:

  1. Those photos are gorgeous! Chris needs one framed on his bedside table or for his office!!