A Cold March Cure

A cold spring:
the violet was flawed on the lawn.
For two weeks or more the trees hesitated;
the little leaves waited,
carefully indicating their characteristics. [...]
-- Elizabeth Bishop, from A Cold Spring


Today there was an abrupt change in the weather. Last week we were at the beach, and today, well, it was spitting snow. I lit a fire in the stove. It felt strange, as if we were thrust into a foreign country without traveling there. The wind was howling around the corners of the house. Poor Buttercup, cutting her third molar, had made for a long night for us all. I searched the house for strong tea or coffee and discovered I was out. The day was shaping up to be a failure. So Blueberry and I determined to search for an antidote to the cold and grumpy morning.


Here is what we found.

Picture of a rocket ship headed to space.


Red striped straws contrasting with the pretty cup.


Blueberry's birthday cards still gallantly standing on the sideboard. Babar and pirate and ballerina and fairies being conspiratorial.


Finished birthday thank you notes.


Buttercup's first bowl of porridge.


Buttercup's enjoyment of said porridge. Mmmm!


Dressing Buttercup in a new silk before her bath.


Freshly washed pretty baby in a cheerful outfit.


Amazing-smelling stock from Nonni.


Buttercup's bright baubles.


Making lists in Mama's lovely Christmas journal with a good pen.


Making the perfect cup of maple hot cocoa.


And drinking it out of a spring-y mug.


Dancing silly to Elizabeth Mitchell while making dinner.


Brainstorming for craft ideas.


Delving into new birthday books.


Pajama dancing before bed.

Nine Months

Tomorrow my sweet little Buttercup turns nine months old. I am feeling poignant about it, even though I know it's the one-year mark that everyone celebrates. But nine months really means something. It signifies that my wee one has been outside the womb for as long as she was in. She has grown and changed and been marked by the world. The slow process of growing inside has turned to the slow process of peeling away from her mama.

She is crawling, pulling herself up on things in an effort to stand on her own chubby legs, learning that she can communicate through specific sounds instead of the unspoken communication only I can understand. She has (almost) six teeth and has started eating "real" food. She is judicious, sweet, grounded, bright, and secure. She is her own self.

Welcome to the wide world, smart and beautiful girl, my beloved daughter. May it treat you gently.

9 months

1 week old

1 month

2 months

3 months

4 months

5 months

6 months

7 months

8 months

9 months