Les paupières de Colette.

Xavier has this magical way of calming little Colette - whispering each little feature of her face as he touches it. She considers closely what is happening.

Sunday night walk through Central Park.

Uncle Stephen is the best.

Baby, baby, baby.

I read somewhere on a blog a few years ago that if there is one thing that ruins a blog it is a baby. Yes, truly, I am fully guilty of dousing these pages with baby, baby, baby. Back then I thought to myself that I would never allow my existence to be fenced in by a little human creature, even if she were mine. How silly I was. How very silly. A baby is the greatest human undertaking – better than any voyage or venture – I just didn’t get that. That is not to say I am through wandering, roving, trekking. Oh no. It is just to say that at this moment, on these pages, the voyage is right here in the smallest little being and I am enraptured and blithe in it. (Still, trips and such to come shortly).

Blues.

75 degrees and pure blue.

6 months

6 month bonus: down dog.

North Woods.

There is a big swimming pool on the northern end of Central Park. Colette and I were curious the other day about its waterless concrete careens. I took us down a stairway I thought might lead to the entrance, but instead we found a massive stone archway and a forest path that led us to the Adirondacks. Or at least that was the feeling we got. It is the North Woods in Central Park, full of streams and waterfalls and sloping wooded footpaths and only a few other people.

Claire.

I have been singing the blues lately about being away from Colette during the day. What I haven't done is express just how lucky we are with the nanny we found. Claire. Colette got sick on Thursday night. Baby vomit many times over. We called Claire to explore more what Colette ate/did/produced (in terms of diapers) that day. I decided to stay home with Colette on Friday and told Claire to have the day off since I would be here. She came over just to see how little baby was doing - she was worried about her "teammate," as she affectionately calls Colette. She carries Colette like this a lot (above) - it is Colette's preferred position - she is way up high to see everything and holds on to Claire's ponytail for stability - perfect for Miss Independent Baby (Colette would prefer to hang on to something to stand up on her own any day than cuddle). Colette and Claire spend most of the waking part of their day outside - Claire giggled yesterday as she told me about a park they often walk to to watch the big kids. "Colette's legs kick and kick like crazy watching all the things they are doing." We laughed because it is really cute, but also pretty tragic that little miss is stuck watching from the stroller for now. She is ready to be big already. Claire and Colette listen to NPR when they are home and basically structure a day just like I would if it were me. I am endlessly grateful such a grand human being spends so much time with my baby. Colette's face lights up with a smile as big as Claire's when she sees her.

It gets pretty intense around here.

Across the street the trees were phosphorescent this evening. The wind sounded different - like autumn was hovering in the wings, swarming. Soon.

G.W.

Au balcon.

"The world will be mine." (narrated by Uncle Marc)

Colette's painting.

We have delicious paintings by Marie all over our house. She did one for Colette this summer and now it is hanging above her bed. The first time I saw it I thought it looked like Colette. Reminded me of her. Those little tiny blue bows. The red, the gray - the popping flower. Love it.

This is Colette's gleaming face. Employing her tongue, like her mother. (Xavier gets the photo credit here).

Cache Valley, Utah.

Utah is my parents' new and old home. They both grew up in the valley they have chosen for their retirement spot, but spent their adult lives elsewhere. Summers of our childhood were often spent in this idyllic valley - where the cheese is apparently famous and the sun is for keeps. Cache Valley is the northern most valley in Utah - borders Idaho - and stays remarkably green for a desert. Most beautiful of all is driving up Logan Canyon to a place called Tony Grove (Mount Naomi Wilderness Area). I relish wild places - my childhood and my dad's obsession with mountains gave me a palate for those spaces where you don't see other people and the air smells exactly the opposite of the streets of New York City.











What makes Utah home, even partly for me, is the web of people who are there. Lovely cousin, Jill (many cousins everywhere) - aunts and uncles, my grandpa - who is still alive at 95 years old - and of course, my brothers and sisters (4 are in Utah). They love Colette like I do = oversize proportions of love.


(And clearly, Colette has a soft spot for them).