I’m not sure I’ve taken enough photographs of Abby while pregnant. I’ve taken a few, but not every day. Every day might’ve been the ticket, but that ship has sailed. Really you only need a few: Abby in the middle of processing chickens, in Maine, behind the bar at Carrier, standing in the skeleton of our wood shed. 

This picture does capture it I think: the feeling of this summer before the new human joins us. I can project myself into the future looking back at the image as older than the few days this is to the me of today, and it feels nostalgic. 

The spirit of newness, of building things, of adventure and intreped willingness to try to navigate difficult terrain we didn’t yet understand and might never. The immediacy of the scaffold, the promise of the belly, the foundation of the blue house, it’s all there, and it’s all out of focus. 

In-focus photography’s far overrated as far as I’m concerned. Who needs it? Buncha glass nerds what aren’t nearly busy enough with life and woodworking and babies.