January 20, 2015

two.


I try to articulate everything he means to me, but there's no possible way.



January 1, 2015

365 days of leif everett.


From this to this.

What a gift it is to watch him grow.



December 27, 2014

December 19, 2014

come back.


And the days, they linger on
And every night, what i'm waiting for
Is the real possibility I may meet you in my dream

-Pearl Jam

December 12, 2014


I cry because he is here.


December 6, 2014




























Lachute, Quebec

/more from our walk in the woods here

December 2, 2014

white-eyes.


In winter
all the singing is in
the tops of the trees
where the wind-bird

with its white eyes
shoves and pushes
among the branches.
Like any of us

he wants to go to sleep,
but he's restless-
he has an idea,
and slowly it unfolds

from under his beating wings
as long as he stays awake
But his big, round music, after all,
is too breathy to last.

So, it's over.
In the pine-crown
he makes his nest,
he's done all he can.

I don't know the name of this bird,
I only imagine his glittering beak
tucked in a white wing
while the clouds-

which he has summoned
from the north-
which he has taught
to be mild, and silent-

thicken, and begin to fall
into the world below
like stars, or the feathers
of some unimaginable bird

that loves us,
that is asleep now, and silent-
that has turned itself
into snow.

-Mary Oliver