Holland at 24 hours old

Sweet cupcake girl, born yesterday and already winning at life.

A Few Things I'm Excited About (and one thing i'm ambivalent about): Fall Naval-gazing Edition!

Bulletproof coffee. I’m not sure about the “health benefits”, but I was looking to add a little more fat to my breakfast (to avoid my customary 11am RAGE CRASH), and oh my god if isn’t the most delicious thing.

I add a ½ teaspoon of (hippy organic grassfed) butter and a ½ teaspoon of coconut oil to one cup of very hot coffee and blend it with my immersion blender in a mason jar (to avoid spillage and also for hipster reasons) until it’s frothy.

 It tastes like the latte of my dreams—really strong, high octane coffee flavor rounded out by a creamy dairy smoothness. Just one more step in my slow and steady march toward becoming That Guy. I’ve made my peace with it.

***

So I bought the latest issue of Garden and Gun. I am ambivalent, and not just because the name is stupid. Pictures—awesome. Celebrating Southern food—awesome. John T.Edge—obviously awesome. And yet.  It doesn’t represent the South I know—the one rooted in a sense of constant struggle and flux as well as abundance and deliciousness.  I don’t mind a lot of the seersucker, bowtie, lastname for firstname stuff in the right context, especially if hushpuppies are involved, but presenting the good stuff without the struggle is dishonest and weird (and maybe, also, distinctly Southern).

I love the South, and I try to love all of it. And the South loves a good time with good food. In Louisiana they say “laissez le bon temps rouler”, in Georgia, “How sweet it is”, in North Carolina “Best in the world”. But what makes all of that real is the act of saying it in the face of an ugly past and a difficult present. Garden and Gun captures none of that (although I can see Edge pushing toward it in his column).  I think I’m asking too much of a magazine. I liked reading it, but I probably won’t buy it again.

***

Now! More frivolity! Kind of! I don’t want to make myself sick (especially given all the linkage of aluminum toxicity to neurological illness) so I quit antiperspirant. I am a human being, so that made me smell disgusting! On multiple recommendations I bought Soapwalla’s Deodorant Cream and YA’LL IT WORKS. 90 minute yoga class in an 80 degree room—no stink. And it smells like lavender. It's not cheap-- the equivalent of forgoing four trips to the coffee shop. If you have a birthday coming up, you will be receiving this as your gift, because I care about your level of neurotoxicity.

Holding Them, Holding Her: H and A's Maternity Photos

Yesterday was a long, beautiful day. I spent most of it at the hospital alongside my doula clients H and A as they welcomed their daughter into the world—a little person as sweet and yummy as a two-bite cupcake. Yesterday evening, I couldn’t stop looking at the maternity pictures I took of them just a month ago.

Today these parents are reeling from the wonderful cataclysm of touching their child for the first time, while also knowing that she’s been with them all along. In the maternity photos, she’s present and not present, of the earth and not, and her parents’ knowledge of her is both intimate and tentative—hidden from them, like her face. Then, when they held her yesterday, there was no doubt: it was HER in there!

For years, I have supported doula clients with my voice, my hands, my knowledge and presence. When I started photographing expecting and new parents as well, I was shocked by how much the simple act of seeing them from behind my camera deepened our relationship. Planned or candid, posed or unguarded, the act of the taking these photos allows my eye to become a new way of supporting and guiding them as they become parents. The photos themselves help my clients to see them as I saw them, but it’s the actual moment of seeing that matters most, I think.  Seeing them is a way of holding them, while they are learning to hold her.

I love my job!

Weekends with Z: That gunk we put on our faces

Life is always better with my small, powerful, hilarious, buttkicking littlest sister by my side. 

Z was born when I was sixteen, but over the past few years we have come to look so similar that we're regularly asked if we are twins. We've taken to responding that, yes, we are twins, but because Z is so powerful, she required an additional 16 years gestation. It only takes a few seconds of knowing her for this to make perfect sense.

We spent this past weekend together, goofing off, drinking gallons of tea, doing yoga, and sleeping together each night in a single twin bed. Magic. She taught me the finer points of instagram (and something called Kik?), we ate our weight in steak at Medium Rare, and I showed her how to make this simple face mask, which I use a few times a week to suck the gunk out of my pores. As soon as I smeared it all over her face, she declared, "My QUEEN! You must write about this on your BLOG!". 

Very well then! Here's the secret sauce:

-One T green clay (you can buy it at most health food stores include WF)
-Squirt of honey
-Squeeze of lemon
-Two drops of tea tree oil
-Enough warm water to form a paste

I often mix this mask up right in the palm of my hand, slap it on, and fold laundry for 15 minutes while it sets. My face really does feel cleaner afterward.  If you can't find the clay and the tea tree oil locally, (or if you want to support a rad company), you can order them from Mountain Rose Herbs. I love them. Most of all, I love this creature:

Bathtime with Tiny Gresham

It's delish to photograph squishy newborns, but I also love waiting till 6-8 weeks to photograph babies-- by that time they've become real humans with likes and dislikes, awesome facial expresses, and truly distinct selves shining through. When I asked Gresham's mama what he was into these days, she told me he LOVES his bathtime. Awesome! Seeing his little bod relax and his smile unfurl was the best. What a water creature!

Newborn Charlie and her Family in the Evening Garden

I met Charlie's mama over at Lil Om yoga, back when Charlie was still in the belly, and then time flew by, as time does.

 Jill emailed me last week to let me say baby was now on the outside, and did I have time for a last-minute extended family shoot?  Awesome! This session combined so many of my favorite things: a squishy babe, spirited, doting big siblings, snuggling, multiple (FOUR!) generations, evening light, and a community garden. It was pretty close to heaven, and I'm so glad we got it in before Charlie's Grandma and Great-Grandma headed back to Europe!

Sawyer and his Crew

Sawyer is so beloved he had to bring an entourage to his six-month photos: mama, daddy, six grandparents, an aunt and an uncle! It was so wonderful to witness how loving this little person had strengthened the bond of the whole group, and how much Sawyer had already developed his own unique relationship to each family member. We should all be so wrapped up in love.