Transitioning and Always Dawn or Dusk






Dear friends,

A few glances into our nest these past few weeks. Time has taken on an entirely new meaning. The little one is suddenly one-month-old and we are suddenly one month into parenthood. And somehow, it always feels like dawn or dusk. It's as if the sun is always rising or setting and another day is just ending or just about to begin.

Sleep is seldom and infrequent. And I am realizing that this feeling of lightness and drifting and tiredness are actually the new ways of being. We are in transition and time is meaningless. I'm not convinced there are still 24 hours in each day but some days there are 30 and other days there are only 12 or 15. Evening and dark and light and waking and resting are all inverted and, somehow, it always feel like daybreak or sunset.

Soon enough, I will return to the studio and to your beautiful blogs and to the other parts of myself that have been patiently waiting while we've been immersed with our newborn. For now-- just a few photos in low light cast with a bit of what is bewildering and also very new. And, my dearest Maxwell Forest, you are full of quiet mornings peeking out from the California fog and also the most radiant and cloud-coloring dusk.



  1. Oh, Katrina. So beautiful. Enjoy this time.

  2. Yes Katrina,take all time to you and wonder...

  3. I always loved the break of dawn when up with Gil. Everything is so quiet then, and it seems that no mistakes have been made yet for anyone. The true, hardworking, and the mothers are up. They are your hours to be close, quiet, reflective and warm.

  4. katrina, dear, he is so so very beautiful. congratulations to all of you! you made him!

  5. more beautiful words. can't wait to meet him. ox

  6. Beautiful photos Katrina. I can only imagine the timelessness of each day right now for you. Such beautiful days to be passing through right now as well :)

  7. denise: aw, you're kind, you. thank you.

    eye: yes, we are trying to just slow down. and wonder.

    beth: so well said. in my lucid moments i am grateful albeit exhausted. but precious, yes.

    gg: thank you. my biggest project to date!

    shash: yes, can't wait for you to meet him too. soon, i hope.

    laurel: timelessness. yes, yes.

  8. Oh, this takes me back. My son turned 7 yesterday but you've beautifully captured the subterranean feel of that first month. When time became differently oriented and I seemed always to be in my robe. Overwhelming, miraculous, exhausting. Lovely writing.


Thank you for your comments, friends. I like to think we are creating a dialogue in this space--building a virtual community.