Twins in a bird bath

The twins, Shannon and Hannah, though I didn’t know their names when we first met 18 years ago. Mom and dad brought them in the back of their van, to Norfolk where I lived and often shot. It started sprinkling rain and mom, a friend of mine for several years, called to ask if they should turn around. No, come on I said, we’ll do something. Joey and I were set up with a strobe in the yard behind my building. We covered it with trash bags. They hurried in with the girls in their little white dresses. I wanted to sit them in this birth bath with the wall of ivy behind them. They’re 10 months old, they can’t sit up, mom told me. Undeterred, I said we’ll lean em against each other. At the time I had no children and no idea how they worked. We put a towel down and sat them in the birth bath, leaning them together. Dad stood on one side just off camera holding an umbrella, Joey was on the other. Mom with me, behind the camera. When the girls began to sway, one or both would lunge to catch them before they tumbled out. We didn’t shoot long, maybe 20 frames. But in the end, it would yield a most remarkable image. One girl holding her dress so delicately with her toes pointed; the other wide-eyed, her hand above her head. This fall they’re heading off to college. Has it really been that long? See you in 18. (click on image to enlarge)

Saturday at the Beach

When you live at the beach and go there often, as I do, to read and swim or walk and think, you recognize those who come only now and again. A special day at the beach. Often new families drive out to bring young children, as no small child hates the beach. Generally, without the benefit of a cart it means a lot of lugging. Young kids require stuff, and on weekends moms and dads come over the dunes with chairs and coolers, floats, shovels, buckets and umbrellas and more things than can comfortably be carried for a few hours of joy at the beach. This woman brought a curly haired small child and most probably a grandmother. They played near the water while she sat a distance away, on a smart yellow striped towel. They had the plastic sand toys, but traveled lighter than most, there was no dad in the group. The leather bag signaled novice to the veterans. It turned cloudy and dripped raindrops for a bit before turning solidly to rain, chasing most from the beach.

Birth

A month ago at Pacifica, an oceanfront tapas bar, I asked Christine – a waitress with pretty features and interesting tattoos and a pregnant belly – if she be interested in doing some photos. Some months before I’d photographed Jimmy the bartender for a mag story on cyclists, so she knew who I was. It made her night she said, and gave me her number. We exchanged texts over the next couple of weeks. Memorial day came and went, we got busy, etc. Finally one night, I sent her an embarrassed text asking if I’d missed the opportunity. “No, but it’s soon,” came the reply. I suggested the next day. Long story short, she came and we took photographs. She went home with cramps starting and three hours later gave birth to a healthy little girl. Here’s to timing.