Happy Halloween!

From a monkey and his very reluctant banana (not shown: the rest of Gus's costume, which was worn for 2 seconds). 


On Sunday afternoon.

Just a football game, some chili heating on the stove and a walk to the market for some cornbread and tea, passing the little ones in their Halloween costumes on the town green as we went. Wearing heavy sweaters, we watched the sun set from a blanket in our backyard. And there it was: a perfect moment.


Dress shopping for Loo.

Yesterday was a day in Boston in honor of the bride-to-be. We went wedding dress shopping, and my eyes welled a bit at the thought of all the blessing that lies ahead for my oldest friend. She has been goodness and truth to me for 26 years, and I'm beyond lucky to know her.

The countdown begins, sweet friend.


Dear baby boy.

You're sweeter and smarter and more full of life every month, little one. It's easy to feel saddened and overwhelmed by how quickly you're growing, but for the most part, I'm not fighting it. Time gives you complexity. Time makes you more you, and I'm terribly fortunate to have a front seat in that process. 

Still, I think what I love most are the moments when time stands still. I bring you into our bed to nurse between 4 and 5 every morning, and you fall back to sleep with your head nuzzled into my neck. Your breath is warm and milky sweet, and what little hair you have smells slightly floral, like baby shampoo. This is why women become mothers. This is why the human race continues. 

When you wake, you're all smiles and coos and lately, high-pitched screams. You are so certain that what you have to say is worth being heard, loudly. One day, you will learn how important it is to listen. For now, that's our job. 

I so look forward to learning what you're thinking and what your dreams become. But no rush, baby. Take your time. 

My love, always,
your mama


In the mountains.

We left early yesterday morning and joined some friends for hiking, farm wandering and wine tasting near the Catskills. The leaves were at their most beautiful - I'm not even sure how many times I commented on the colors as we drove in. You did good, autumn.

And now for two dozen photos, because there's no sense in narrowing down:



"The leaves as they spark into wild color just before they die are the world's oldest performance art, and everything we see is celebrating one last violently hued hurrah before the black and white silence of winter." - Shauna Niequist


Sunday morning.

On Sunday, we headed into the city for church and brunch and a walk in the crisp fall air. We left the service a little early because Hugo decided it would be nice to share a solo with the congregation (he's still got a little cold, so we didn't put him in nursery), opting for some brunch at Fred's across the street. Over muffins and strawberry butter, we talked about dreams and responsibilities and a little boy who fits wonderfully into the enormous place our hearts have made for him.


Inside our little yellow house.

Slowly but surely, Beatrice the House is coming together. She's a pretty little thing with her newly refinished wood floors and stone fireplace. She's got her quirks, for sure (helloooo, oddly shaped bathroom and laundry in the kitchen), but we kind of love her for it. It's all in what you make it, and for us, she'll do just fine. 


Sick baby.

Poor little guy came down with a cold this weekend, but he's been such a sport about it. Contrary to what this photo suggests, he's still our smiley little boy. I could eat him up, I love him so.



Happy October! My department kicked off the season (the very best season!) and celebrated our company's anniversary with drinks and giant pretzels at The Standard Biergarten in Meatpacking yesterday. There were German hats involved, so you know how seriously we take this.