photographs

Shadow family, the day after the blizzard.

Sunday morning, 7am.  I was openly skeptical of the decision for Whit to play hockey, quite critical of the schedule (6am games on Sundays?) and demands, and basically not into the idea at all.  I never thought I’d say this, then: I am so glad my son plays hockey.  I even like the early morning games.  On the Sundays that I take him, it’s just us, alone in the world, munching a toasted peanut butter and jelly sandwich as we drive through the rising dawn.  I love it.

Last weekend, hiking in the Marin sunshine, with two of my three college roommates.  These are two of the only three human beings I have ever chosen to live with other than Matt (and the children, but truthfully, I did not select them as people to live with – I rolled the dice.  Thankfully it worked out).  We met in the fall of 1992, and over 20 years, three husbands, three MBAs, five children, a river of tears and even more laughter later, they are still among my very favorite people.

K and C, I love you.

There is absolutely nothing like January light.  Every morning I try to capture the glow of the light on bare branches.  Every morning I fail.  I think Gerard Manley Hopkins did it better in words than I will ever do in photographs: the world is charged with the grandeur of God.  It always is, but I for one see it most of all in January light.