30 July 2018

papa & boy, gone flying.

i've got uncountable photographs to sort through, ever so many words to find — all about july and summer and six months a mother and, and, and — but living fully the moment i am in will always be king. and so, the photographs pile up and the words dangle. and that's just fine. 

this morning i am leaning into the small things of late: a thick slice of frosted cinnamon bread toted home from a bakery in utah. quiet. space. lungfuls of light air. moving my body amongst wildflowers and trees. helping hands offered by strangers. time with women — strong, magnificent women. cross-country flights. sunday morning farmers markets. family naps. the promise of a slow august. thoughts of how we'll mark a thirty first birthday. writing a love letter to my husband. getting lost in the joy of filling two french presses for morning coffee, because our home was so full of friends. memory of papa and boy, gone flying in central park one sunny day. dimpled hands all over my face. fat puffs of oils (balsam fir, pine, florals) that bring the mountains of the wild west right to my very door. 


  1. Love this so much. These pictures of Chris and Francis are so so special.

  2. Beautiful words. These pictures are so sweet. So happy for the moments we’ve shared this month!