December 11, 2011
Dear Everly
This photo is blurry and you are making a funny face, but I have to put it here anyway. I like the way it makes me feel when I look at it. It instantly transports me to this moment with you. Early morning, apple juice running off the end of your chin, that wild hair we can never tame, and the bedsheets pulled over our heads in a makeshift tent.
As always my dear girl, living these moments with you is a privelege.
Love,
Mama

Dear Everly

This photo is blurry and you are making a funny face, but I have to put it here anyway. I like the way it makes me feel when I look at it. It instantly transports me to this moment with you. Early morning, apple juice running off the end of your chin, that wild hair we can never tame, and the bedsheets pulled over our heads in a makeshift tent.

As always my dear girl, living these moments with you is a privelege.

Love,

Mama

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Melissa.
Brent.
Everly.
Arlo.

A mama. A daddy. And two preschoolers to keep us on our toes.

We like Sundays, pretending to be a family jam band and bedsheet tents. We believe in love, family and a good pair of cowboy boots.

Brent sings songs. I write words. And these sweet babies make our world go round.

Welcome.



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