14/52

"a portrait of my son, once a week, every week, in 2014"

augustus: sitting out front on an incredibly warm evening, ripping our poor poppies to shreds.

it has been so hot this week, so much so that i wonder how i'd ever survive anywhere other than california, when it only occassionally ever gets unbearably hot. we live fifteen minutes from the ocean, so even on the hotter days, when the sun sets, the cool coastal breeze passes and we are met with great relief.

our poppies have bloomed, and so has just about everything else in our yard. lillies, irises, quince and our hyrdrangeas and roses are just on their cusp. i still can't quite wrap my head around the fact that i have experienced every season with my little love. we had him on a warm spring night just like the one we are having as i write this. 

the blooming poppy's, the warm evening, the ripe moon.

they were all here before him, that's already known. 

but now that he's here, i notice everything that i never could quite see before.

how soft a poppy's petal is.