These first soft quiet warm two weeks have been a peaceful kind restful yet not restful blur, a retreat from the world out there and into the center of life, like holding a small fragrant flower and seeing it grow and begin to open, it’s a primordial thing, a thing in her breath and momma’s curving arms hugging Willa to her bosom and my tall walking and rocking her showing her the tree and the birds and the sunlight, such as it is in this mostly gray winter, holding her to my chest. The bedroom is verdant, mossy, fragrant, steamy with skin-on-skin cuddling, the bed, the linens, our juniper tree friend waving gently outside, mother’s nursing, baby hungry, baby napping, baby hungry, baby napping, the love full smile of mother, her hair tied up behind her head, her soft long arms softly longingly encircling baby, the supporting, the growing, the cooing, the far friends and close neighbors and grandma all showing up in their times.