Little hands. I love the little hands in some of the shots above. Even Charlotte's that you can't really see, but the way they are tucked up under her. I look down at my own hands, 39 years old they are today, and I see my mothers.
What do you think of my new desk chair? I found it at the side of the road on one of my early morning runs. I had to cut the run short, I did, in order to carry that treasure home. I imagine it had sat forlornly in some high rise basement laundry room and wonder what it has been replaced with. Something, I dare say, that will not last half as long as this one did.
We've spent some time up on the roof and I've placed a basket of blankets just outside the balcony door so that we can wrap ourselves up and watch the sun go down. I'm grateful to have a use for the quilt that was my grandmothers and that is too worn to employ elsewhere.
Last year we went for pie on my birthday. We are now within walking distance to that little place and I'm finding myself feeling so lucky for that. And for the park across the street and the happy people in it. Oh what a year brings.