two sailin' towards the sun. three, countin' the little one.

a bouquet of photographs taken when francis was but four weeks new.

i am desperate to remember, and she captured it all: us, now three, in our apartment tucked four flights up, where we moved when he was a blossom in my belly, in the hope that it would be a place for a baby — a family — to grow in. small motherhood moments — milk, a nuzzle, a song. the way the light floods our southward windows just so. mama and nursling. papa and boy (god, how i hope he grows up to be just like him). candles flickering, coffee on. forehead wrinkles and pudding cheeks. a swaddle escaped. the tenderness. the cooing, humming, breathing. hours and days with our dove of a boy who stretches with gusto and smiles in his dreams.

photographs i could climb into.

(photographs by belle savransky, title lyrics by iron & wine)

happy, merry.

how bright this baby makes our days. how loved this baby is already, how treasured, how deeply yearned for. how new everything feels, how sweet, how holy. we're spending christmas with our family — both sides! — and our tiny swan a-swimming in my belly, and every breath i take is a whisper of, "...and this time next year..."

happy, merry everything. 

as we are.

just a smattering of scenes captured on a deep autumn morning — us, as we are, in these days, as we live them. twenty nine & thirty, one year married, three years together, waiting for baby, love, so much of it.

photographs by the lovely belle augusta.