it takes two and it used to take only one

it was sometime around ten o'clock last saturday night that nicole called to me from the other side of the campsite, "come check this out". naturally i got up and made the trek to where she was. it was there, out in the open, that she pointed up at the giant trees that towered above us, a mesmerizing glow emanating from the sky causing a silhouette of the forest to stand out. it was the time between dusk and dark when everything is a strange shade of blue and the air seems quiet and still. magical. "isn't it amazing?" she asked, and it was, only i couldn't tell you why. it just was. i thought for a moment about going back to the tent and grabbing my camera, coming back and perching it on a stump for stability in the low light and trying to capture the moment, but i didn't. i didn't because i knew without even trying that it could never be done. some things can never be captured for later. somethings lose too much in translation to make it worth while. so we stood side by side in the moment and stared up at the sky, awestruck with the beauty before us.


this past year i have taken more than a thousand pictures of cohen, some of which i have shared here, while others sit on our server preserved for the future. i know this is a little ridiculous and a hard challenge to live up to if there are any more children in our future, but i did it because it was what i needed to do. to preserve. to remember. or at least to try. looking back now, (and even in the moment i think i knew) i realize that pictures will never tell the whole story though, just like the words of this blog, they are doomed to fail. don't get me wrong, i am grateful for them and glad they exist, but as the year came to a close i realized that those moments have come and gone, they only live in my head now and even that can't be entirely trusted. it isn't a new revelation, or even a particularly interesting one really, but when you have children it is different, sadder somehow, this passing of time.

i had intended to come here and tell you what this year has meant to me, the long afternoons outside in the sun, or mornings spent lounging in bed playing games, the first smiles and then laughter, urges towards mobility followed far too quickly by walking, about how full my heart feels when i look over every morning and see him sitting there in his crib waiting, a toothy grin filling his face, "mama" sputtering from his lips, arms up in anticipation. there are a thousand moments like this, maybe more, each one of them unique and perfect and mine. but telling them would never work, just like the trees at dusk, they can't be translated. i won't even try. instead i will just say that i am thankful, so very thankful for the abundance of joy i am given everyday. i smile to think of the millions of moments that are out there lurking, waiting for us to arrive. i can't wait!

a photographic year in review
june

july

august

september

october

november

december

january

february

march

april

may

one year



oh, and i did end up getting the obligatory birthday cake shot! of course it was when we were back home and it was leftover cake, but that still counts...right?