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.