




Dear friends,
The fog is thick across the rooftops and tree branches this morning and, thankfully, my tea is hot and somehow streamlined in comparison. I'm suddenly maintaining a uniform of plaid flannel shirts and dark denim jeans and high leather boots or wooly slippers and often a hat with flaps or, I admit, a bright yellow beret. Cardigans are slung over the backs of nearly every chair in our house and small and large throw blankets too. Today is fog rolling into late morning and a little boy asleep and a handful of photographs between me and you.
I'm going to take a few weeks away from this space. We'll be visiting friends and family and so I'll leave you with a few glimpses into our cozy Christmas morning. The lights on the tree kept us company until the sun peered through and the rest of the neighborhood started to wake. Of course, our mornings start early. Or our evenings run late. Or time is still in short cycles of newborn care but we are finding our way down tunnels and portals and side streets of daily function. His cheeks are rounder. His eyes are brighter. His hands are more like my hands.
Happy New Year, dear friends. And do you want to know a secret? Okay, then. My birthday is New Year's Day.
xoxo,
k.




















