February 28, 2019

Sweet Surrender

There is something so peaceful about a sleeping child. Sweet surrender. My boy is currently snoozing on my childhood blanket draped over the brown wool rug in the front parlour. He rolled and tucked and played so hard he fell asleep in the process. Muted afternoon sunlight shines upon his round head. He is on his belly with his hands tucked under his chest. This is Bernard's preferred sleeping position at the moment. Sleep on boy. I am happy to take a moment to sit alone with my thoughts.
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Sweet sleeper under my most special blanket. 14 weeks old. February 2019.
Impromptu self-timer family portrait in the darkroom set up by IDP. February 2019
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Last night B and I were up together many times. Oh that nighttime dance we are learning so well. Closed eye navigation. He was wakeful and alert, I was in a mummified state. Those shiny black stones for eyes of his piercing me through the darkness. Mama, I'm here. Come scoop me up. I want to be closer to you than an I am. Ok little Bird, I am but an arms-length away but here I come. 
We rocked in the old rocker in the dark parlour and he nursed as much as he could handle and then some. Overfed and under slept never feels very life-giving, but there we were. That togetherness felt good in the dark. Tiredness schmiredness. Sweet, calm, gentle boy was content in my arms, upright. Alright. 
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Atlas on the frozen lake at Clearwater Bay, Ontario where his mama grew up. February 2019
Atlas, Benny in the bear suit inside my jacket and I on the lake on a beautiful Saturday.
Arlo observes her uncle and brother play in the snow.
Rebecca and little miss Evey.
Strollin' Clearwater Bay on Lake of the Woods with my people at four in the afternoon on a calm Saturday.
Arlo takes a load off.
Atlas' long limbs frame his sweet face. Six years old already!
Miss Evey girl.
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These photos are from a single roll of Fujicolour 400 run through IDP's Canon AE-1.
Winnipeg, Manitoba and Clearwater Bay, Ontario; February 2019

February 13, 2019

Littlest Softie

Eleven weeks old and already scheming / twinkling.

Little sleeper on his dream mat made by his Aunty Daryl, wearing his cousin Elliot's hand-me-down sleeper under a blanket knit by his Great Grandma Helen. That is love!

Oh be still my heart. Top lip of my dreams.

Slice of a soft afternoon. Wearing my favourite socks as I stand on the coffee table to take photos of my kid! Mom alert.


Benny, captured at 11 and 12 weeks old.
Winnipeg, MB; February 2019.

Kiev 60 / expired NPC 160

February 1, 2019

Glad in your arms


B Bop & Calzone 4 Eva.

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My nearly three month old baby boy snoozes off his wild night on my bed at the moment. From where I sit at the old cream writing desk, I can hear the soothing hum of the dryer tumbling cloth napkins from Cape Town below my feet. Even after two wash cycles to soften the fibre, those eight napkins contain this incredible scent that I imagine to be a combination of local laundry soap washed in salt water. It is a heavenly combo. Some day, I hope to sniff the salty air at Kalk Bay--a coastal fishing town outside of Cape Town, South Africa--alongside my family.

Also from the basement I can hear the gentle crooning of Mandolin Orange. The music of their album "This Side of Jordan" (a true favourite of mine, suitable to play in all types of situations) wafts up the stairs from the darkroom, through an open door, snaking into the hall and around a corner to where I sit. I was just down in the darkroom actually, setting up my 8x10" trays to print when I felt a sudden pang to return back upstairs to check on Benny and then sit down to write if he was still down.

So I came up. B Bop is fast asleep with rosebuds on his cheeks as I settle in. Thanks my boy, I needed to write. It has been too long. Black tea steeps at my left. So, what's new?

I am a mama! I can't quite believe it. Motherhood has been the best trip to ever happen to me! Wild ride thus far :) I didn't expect to fall so hard for the sweetest smells and sounds coming from a little baby. Little touches of skin resting easy against skin in the night. The many firsts. Simple discoveries leading to stars alight in little eyes. Observation of new skills. Leaps of growth in the night that make one's heart lurch at the sight of it come dawn. Learning the weight of my child. Really now, words to form sentences to describe it betray me and vanish. What I can say confidently is that motherhood is constantly teaching me wise lessons (so long as I tune in to them). As a forward thinker, quick mover, weak listener and thorough planner, being moored in the present as I have been in over the last three months as I nurture my child and live moment to moment alongside him is the best lesson I have ever received in the Art of Slowing Down. Being present. Showing up. Building trust. Accepting the wisdom. Applying the lesson. Finding joy in the challenges. Going with the FLOOOOOOOOOOOW!

Talk about swift learning curve! This is not to say that any of that business of learning is EASY. It is not. Not easy, nor glamorous. Humbling mostly. Sometimes I spill tears on my child's head as he eats his lunch and I crunch carrots in bed in nothing but my socks between sobs on the phone with my sister. Ca va. It goes. Our new family grows together. Saturdays at home with my darlings have taken on a whole new sacred level.

Anyway, a few musings of a new mother!

This piece of writing by John O'Donohue below was given to me by a friend written in her hand when Benny was one week new (along with a great pair of sky blue cordoroy overalls). A special gift that I have revisited many times in the last eleven weeks and four days since my son arrived.


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Blessing for a Mother-to-be

Nothing could have prepared your heart to open like this.

From beyond the skies and the stars
This echo arrived inside of you and started to pulse with life
Each beat a tiny act of growth,
Traversing all our ancient shapes,
On its way home to itself.


Once it began, you were no longer your own.
A new, more courageous you, offering itself
In a new way to a presence you can sense
But you have not seen or known.


It has made you feel alone
In a way you never knew before;

Everyone else sees only from the outside
What you feel and feed with every fiber of your being.


Never have you traveled farther inward
Where words and thoughts become half-­light
unable to reach the fund of brightness
Strengthening inside the night of your womb.


Like some primeval moon,
Your soul brightens
The tides of essense
That flow to your child.


You know your life has changed forever,
For in all the days and years to come,
Distance will never be able to cut you off
From the one you now carry
For nine months under your heart.


May you be blessed with quiet confidence
That destiny will guide you and mind you.


May the emerging spirit of your child
Imbibe encouragement and joy
From the continuous music of your heart,
So that it can grow with ease,
Respectant of wonder and welcome 

When its form is fully filled

And it makes its journey out
To see you and settle at last
Relieved and glad in your arms.


- writing by John O'Donohue


Benny (6 weeks) and his Grandpa Cal. 
December 26, 2018. Kroeker Christmas at my folks' place in the country. 
Nikon F3 / Delta 400