Rising.

Somewhere between the beginning and the end of our day things can unravel a little. At first there is washing swaying on the line, bread rising on a sunny windowsill ready for lunch with friends. Play is calm, sunlight falls across the strange collections of things that lie on every surface of our house. I'm loving capturing these tiny moments. Somehow looking at them again at the end of the day does not remove the parts in between (he fell, they fought, paint spilled, the sauce that was boiling all day in my head for tea was rejected,he was late, I cried.) But it helps me shrink them down to size. And it makes me want to get up tomorrow and do it all again.