j & h + baby f

in , ,
I can't believe how fast time has been flying lately. 
its seem that frances is still just this little , but her sweet personality is bursting out and I LOVED capturing it. 
sometimes she's a bit of a daddy's girl
a girl after my own heart, she loves her hair strawberry blonde fuzz brushed
can you even handle the cuteness?!
one of my favs
spit happens
being so photogenic is tiring
and that's what we call a wrap people

{rasmussen family}

in ,
this fall has been full of central park shoots and I can't say I'm complaining.
on a sunny saturday morning I was lucky enough to capture this cute little family and this first picture below sums it up pretty good. there was some silliness, laughter and lots of cuteness (on their part) 
the boys
haha. uh oh.
had to snap a few shots of the beautiful jaime 
(& her fabulously styled hair by christie somers)
this is lightening mcqueen in case you didn't notice
{twins}
I die over this

{mattoni family}

in ,
meet the beautiful mattonis.
I taught their oldest in sunday school the first half of the year so it was such fun for me to see him again this fall. he is a bundle of joy and energy.
(as you can see in each picture where he is beaming)
one of my favorites of the day. look at the lil belly peekin out 
oh those eyes

we also took some back to school photos of henry
 
thanks for letting me capture your lovely family

n& baby h: fifth ave

in
since the fabulous nat was asked to be featured in the style-a-thon it seemed a fifth avenue shoot was only natural.
we traipsed our little bums over to the plaza to snap a few glamour shots of N & huck
see nat's post and read about her adventures in baby wearing here
she'll take the words right out of your mouth, I'm telling you.

l&m: very married

in
 In spring I was delighted to be a part of Lauren & Mckenzie's beautiful wedding. Lauren was a stunning bride who kept her cool the entire day and can I just say it really added to the joy of the day. After having shot L&M's engagaments in the freezing frost of the park in januray I was delighted to see the sun was out and all was in bloom in DC {where the ceremony and reception took place}
see I told ya, gorg
love this candid shot
.little girls.
notice the matching shoes
might just be my favorite
fairytale
LOVED this venue, such charm.
anything look familiar? 
ok this is fav too
true love

ready to ride

in



Listen, my children, and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-Five:
Hardly a man is now alive
Who remembers that famous day and year.

He said to his friend, "If the British march
By land or sea from the town to-night,
Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry-arch
Of the North-Church-tower, as a signal-light,--
One if by land, and two if by sea;
And I on the opposite shore will be,
Ready to ride and spread the alarm
Through every Middlesex village and farm,
For the country-folk to be up and to arm."

Then he said "Good night!" and with muffled oar
Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore,
Just as the moon rose over the bay,
Where swinging wide at her moorings lay
The Somerset, British man-of-war:
A phantom ship, with each mast and spar
Across the moon, like a prison-bar,
And a huge black hulk, that was magnified
By its own reflection in the tide.

Meanwhile, his friend, through alley and street
Wanders and watches with eager ears,
Till in the silence around him he hears
The muster of men at the barrack door,
The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet,
And the measured tread of the grenadiers
Marching down to their boats on the shore.

Then he climbed to the tower of the church,
Up the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread,
To the belfry-chamber overhead,
And startled the pigeons from their perch
On the sombre rafters, that round him made
Masses and moving shapes of shade,--
By the trembling ladder, steep and tall,
To the highest window in the wall,
Where he paused to listen and look down
A moment on the roofs of the town,
And the moonlight flowing over all.

Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead,
In their night-encampment on the hill,
Wrapped in silence so deep and still
That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread,
The watchful night-wind, as it went
Creeping along from tent to tent,
And seeming to whisper, "All is well!"
A moment only he feels the spell
Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread
Of the lonely belfry and the dead;
For suddenly all his thoughts are bent
On a shadowy something far away,
Where the river widens to meet the bay, --
A line of black, that bends and floats
On the rising tide, like a bridge of boats.

Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride,
Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride,
On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere.
Now he patted his horse's side,
Now gazed on the landscape far and near, Then impetuous stamped the earth,
And turned and tightened his saddle-girth;
But mostly he watched with eager search The belfry-tower of the old North Church,
As it rose above the graves on the hill,
Lonely and spectral and sombre and still.
And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height,
A glimmer, and then a gleam of light!
He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns,
But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight
A second lamp in the belfry burns!

A hurry of hoofs in a village-street,
A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark,
And beneath from the pebbles, in passing, a spark
Struck out by a steed that flies fearless and fleet:
That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light,
The fate of a nation was riding that night;
And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight,
Kindled the land into flame with its heat.

He has left the village and mounted the steep,
And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep,
Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides;
And under the alders, that skirt its edge,
Now soft on the sand, now load on the ledge,
Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides.

It was twelve by the village clock
When he crossed the bridge into Medford town.
He heard the crowing of the cock,
And the barking of the farmer's dog,
And felt the damp of the river-fog,
That rises when the sun goes down.

It was one by the village clock,
When he galloped into Lexington.
He saw the gilded weathercock
Swim in the moonlight as he passed,
And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare,
Gaze at him with a spectral glare,
As if they already stood aghast
At the bloody work they would look upon.

It was two by the village clock,
When be came to the bridge in Concord town.
He heard the bleating of the flock,
And the twitter of birds among the trees,
And felt the breath of the morning breeze
Blowing over the meadows brown.
And one was safe and asleep in his bed
Who at the bridge would be first to fall,
Who that day would be lying dead,
Pierced by a British musket-ball.

You know the rest. In the books you have read,
How the British Regulars fired and fled,--
How the farmers gave them ball for ball,
From behind each fence and farmyard-wall,
Chasing the red-coats down the lane,
Then crossing the fields to emerge again
Under the trees at the turn of the road,
And only pausing to fire and load.

So through the night rode Paul Revere;
And so through the night went his cry of alarm
To every Middlesex village and farm,--
A cry of defiance, and not of fear,
A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door,
And a word that shall echo forevermore!
For, borne on the night-wind of the Past,
Through all our history, to the last,
In the hour of darkness and peril and need,
The people will waken and listen to hear
The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed,
And the midnight message of Paul Revere.

- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

a&j

in
In the spirit of "june weddings" I thought I post some images from last summer.  My dear friend Angie was married to her sweetheart Jeremy. I've known her my whole life (our mom's are besties) so it was such a treat to have her stay at our home the night before the wedding. We had such fun getting her ready in the morning!

Enjoy a few shots from the morning of.