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Anaiah turned eight months old a week ago, but she had a wretched cold and to be honest neither of us felt much like having a photoshoot. So here we are, or rather, here she is. Crawling, unpacking bags, reaching! for everything!, listening to the world's myriad sounds, making new teeth, snuggling, speaking her mind (and making no bones about it), finding the edges, exploring the corners, getting stuck under furniture, flirting with all and sundry, waving to the populace and laughing herself to sleep. I mean, come on. I want that life.









Obviously we got to spend some time outside this weekend in the comparatively balmy February weather. We planted bulbs, trimmed shrubs, ate moss, made piles and generally dreamed. The sun is shining, folks, and I know it always does this in February, and that March is snickering right around the corner, just waiting to break our hearts, but it feels like spring. Time to go clean something.