June | 2017

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June | 2017

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A Saturday Evening at Home

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A Saturday Evening at Home

Backyards, brothers, mothers, the kitchen table, games. The bathtub, story-time, baby chicks, football. Forsythia, bare feet, bar-b-q, kisses. Newlyweds, blueberry dessert, the swing set, forever.

Thank you for sharing your beautiful, busy, and loving every-day with me. 

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May | 2017

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May | 2017

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A Normal Day

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A Normal Day

“Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me learn from you, love you, bless you before you depart. Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow. Let me hold you while I may, for it may not always be so. One day I shall dig my nails into the earth, or bury my face in the pillow, or stretch myself taut, or raise my hands to the sky and want, more than all the world, your return.”

― Mary Jean Irion

I was away from you all for nearly a week. In another country, across the Atlantic. The whole time I was there I was thinking about how much I wanted to show you everything I was seeing. That experiencing it without you made me feel a little hollow. I missed you all, but I also loved the missing you. It made me sharper in my seeing of the world and more appreciative of all I have to come back home to. Welcome home.  Photo by Olivia Gatti Facebook :: Website

I was away from you all for nearly a week. In another country, across the Atlantic. The whole time I was there I was thinking about how much I wanted to show you everything I was seeing. That experiencing it without you made me feel a little hollow. I missed you all, but I also loved the missing you. It made me sharper in my seeing of the world and more appreciative of all I have to come back home to. Welcome home. 

Photo by Olivia Gatti

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when you were in the early days of our life together, you would fall asleep suddenly without me knowing it at first.  i would be holding you in one arm (you were once so tiny) as i walked around the kitchen cooking dinner with my one free hand.  i would feel your body get heavier and look down at you sound asleep.  today i gave you a bath after lunch.  you were sitting in the tub with your back to me.  you let out one weak whimper so i quickly bent over the tub to pick you up and wrap you in a towel.  as i stood up i felt the heaviness.  i leaned your body back into my arms so that i could finally see your face.  your sleeping face.  i was certain you would wake when i placed you on your changing table.  but you continued to sleep even as i dressed you and carried you out to the car to do the school pick up.  it was as if this past year had been merely a dream and you were still my brand new baby who could fall into a deep beautiful sleep no matter where you were.  Photo by Heather Robinson Photography Blog :: Facebook

when you were in the early days of our life together, you would fall asleep suddenly without me knowing it at first.  i would be holding you in one arm (you were once so tiny) as i walked around the kitchen cooking dinner with my one free hand.  i would feel your body get heavier and look down at you sound asleep.  today i gave you a bath after lunch.  you were sitting in the tub with your back to me.  you let out one weak whimper so i quickly bent over the tub to pick you up and wrap you in a towel.  as i stood up i felt the heaviness.  i leaned your body back into my arms so that i could finally see your face.  your sleeping face.  i was certain you would wake when i placed you on your changing table.  but you continued to sleep even as i dressed you and carried you out to the car to do the school pick up.  it was as if this past year had been merely a dream and you were still my brand new baby who could fall into a deep beautiful sleep no matter where you were. 

Photo by Heather Robinson Photography

Blog :: Facebook

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A Normal Day

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A Normal Day

“Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me learn from you, love you, bless you before you depart. Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow. Let me hold you while I may, for it may not always be so. One day I shall dig my nails into the earth, or bury my face in the pillow, or stretch myself taut, or raise my hands to the sky and want, more than all the world, your return.”

― Mary Jean Irion

Caught her in the light for one shot as she headed off to school this morning. She's only just 10, but I can see the woman she'll be in her poise and movements. This shot was simply needed to freeze her like this for me, for always. Photo by Olivia Gatti Facebook :: Website

Caught her in the light for one shot as she headed off to school this morning. She's only just 10, but I can see the woman she'll be in her poise and movements. This shot was simply needed to freeze her like this for me, for always.

Photo by Olivia Gatti

Facebook :: Website


today i asked if i could take your photograph with the flowers you gave me for mother’s day.  i ask you now to take your photograph as a sign of my growing respect for your privacy.  you said yes to my request but you did as you have always done over the past seven years.  you looked away.  even when you were a baby and i was just starting out in photography, you made me work to capture your gaze.  and it was never in my direction.  i would make funny sounds at first.  later i began to tell you stories.  and then i just surrendered to the fact that i needed to take photographs of you regardless of whether you were looking away.  i began to take your pictures while you were unaware of me.  today i asked you if you liked being photographed by me.  you said, “yes” looking in my direction for what felt like a millisecond.  not long enough for my shutter speed.  i asked you if you ever felt like i took too many photos.  you looked out the window as if searching outside for the answer.  i know you didn’t want to hurt my feelings so you said, “maybe every once in a while.”  i smiled and asked you if you ever wished that i didn’t take photos of you.  and then your eyes shifted quickly in my direction searching to see my own eyes behind the camera.  i pressed the shutter.  with a sadness in your voice, you said, “but then how would i exist?”   i told you that these photos i take of you will last for a very very long time.  while they are proof of your existence, they are not what makes you exist.   this wasn’t enough for you.  i set my camera down and our eyes met.  you asked me how i would remember that you existed if i never made photos of you.  i told you that if i couldn’t capture you with my camera, i would learn to paint so i could paint you on a canvas, or i would learn to sculpt so i could sculpt a statue of you, or i would use my words to write stories about you.  i would do whatever it took to make sure you would always be remembered.  at this you looked away.  and while i could no longer capture your gaze, i could see the smile that now rested on your lips.  my hand instinctively reached out touching my camera beside me.   then i stopped myself.  now would not become a “maybe every once in while.”  instead, i would paint this memory of you straight onto my heart.  Photo by Heather Robinson Photography Blog :: Facebook

today i asked if i could take your photograph with the flowers you gave me for mother’s day.  i ask you now to take your photograph as a sign of my growing respect for your privacy.  you said yes to my request but you did as you have always done over the past seven years.  you looked away.  even when you were a baby and i was just starting out in photography, you made me work to capture your gaze.  and it was never in my direction.  i would make funny sounds at first.  later i began to tell you stories.  and then i just surrendered to the fact that i needed to take photographs of you regardless of whether you were looking away.  i began to take your pictures while you were unaware of me.  today i asked you if you liked being photographed by me.  you said, “yes” looking in my direction for what felt like a millisecond.  not long enough for my shutter speed.  i asked you if you ever felt like i took too many photos.  you looked out the window as if searching outside for the answer.  i know you didn’t want to hurt my feelings so you said, “maybe every once in a while.”  i smiled and asked you if you ever wished that i didn’t take photos of you.  and then your eyes shifted quickly in my direction searching to see my own eyes behind the camera.  i pressed the shutter.  with a sadness in your voice, you said, “but then how would i exist?”   i told you that these photos i take of you will last for a very very long time.  while they are proof of your existence, they are not what makes you exist.   this wasn’t enough for you.  i set my camera down and our eyes met.  you asked me how i would remember that you existed if i never made photos of you.  i told you that if i couldn’t capture you with my camera, i would learn to paint so i could paint you on a canvas, or i would learn to sculpt so i could sculpt a statue of you, or i would use my words to write stories about you.  i would do whatever it took to make sure you would always be remembered.  at this you looked away.  and while i could no longer capture your gaze, i could see the smile that now rested on your lips.  my hand instinctively reached out touching my camera beside me.   then i stopped myself.  now would not become a “maybe every once in while.”  instead, i would paint this memory of you straight onto my heart. 

Photo by Heather Robinson Photography

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April | 2017

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April | 2017

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March | 2017

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March | 2017

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An Afternoon in New Hampshire

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An Afternoon in New Hampshire

If I had to say there was one family I truly started with, it would be this one. Momma and I became fast friends when she came to my library's story time years back. Long after the other parents, caretakers and kids left, she and I and her daughter would sit on the floor and talk and talk and talk about parenting and life. Fast forward a bit, and we were both pregnant together (she with her second and I with my third). And now we wait for baby number three. In all this time she has had me to document their beautiful life's celebrations and every-days. This session was so special because both she and I, independent of each other, wanted to try milk bath photography. Yet another moment we laughed and laughed, kindred spirits sharing the same idea. A full collaboration. A very full heart.

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A Saturday Afternoon in New York

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A Saturday Afternoon in New York

Meeting this fellow Long Islander, change maker, mover and shaker, and her talented and awesome husband a few days before the birth of their first child was easy. Yes. Easy. They had just moved into their temporary apartment only a few days before I arrived, and it was no sweat. This couple is so used to being nomads, going where the political or activism winds should take them, they truly embody the idea that "home" is simply wherever they are when they are together. I send them both much love and luck on their new journey with their new traveling partner, a healthy baby girl. xo

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A Normal Day

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A Normal Day

“Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me learn from you, love you, bless you before you depart. Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow. Let me hold you while I may, for it may not always be so. One day I shall dig my nails into the earth, or bury my face in the pillow, or stretch myself taut, or raise my hands to the sky and want, more than all the world, your return.”

― Mary Jean Irion

We walk the fine line between make-believe and Musical.ly. Between blanket forts and Minecraft. Strange, new world for us all.  Photo by Olivia Gatti Facebook :: Website

We walk the fine line between make-believe and Musical.ly. Between blanket forts and Minecraft. Strange, new world for us all. 

Photo by Olivia Gatti

Facebook :: Website


it doesn’t matter how tall and lean you get.  you are still my baby.  you are the baby that i dreamt of long before you were you.  you are the one who slept on my heart that first year as i walked up and down the hills for hours each day.  when i became pregnant with your little sister, i worried that you might never forgive me for offering that space to another baby.  thank goodness you fell for her instantly.  the love that once watered my soul now rained down on her.  and she grew heartily because of it.  but i missed it.  i missed our nearness.  years passed and along came your baby brother.  he reminds me of you not just in the way he looks but in the way he looks at me.  the way he nourishes my soul.  he now resides over my heart. i think you have forgiven me.  i believe that you understand that my heart stretches just like your arms and legs.  it expands to make room for each and every one of my babies.   Photo by Heather Robinson Photography Blog :: Facebook

it doesn’t matter how tall and lean you get.  you are still my baby.  you are the baby that i dreamt of long before you were you.  you are the one who slept on my heart that first year as i walked up and down the hills for hours each day.  when i became pregnant with your little sister, i worried that you might never forgive me for offering that space to another baby.  thank goodness you fell for her instantly.  the love that once watered my soul now rained down on her.  and she grew heartily because of it.  but i missed it.  i missed our nearness.  years passed and along came your baby brother.  he reminds me of you not just in the way he looks but in the way he looks at me.  the way he nourishes my soul.  he now resides over my heart. i think you have forgiven me.  i believe that you understand that my heart stretches just like your arms and legs.  it expands to make room for each and every one of my babies.  

Photo by Heather Robinson Photography

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February | 2017

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February | 2017

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A Normal Day

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A Normal Day

“Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me learn from you, love you, bless you before you depart. Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow. Let me hold you while I may, for it may not always be so. One day I shall dig my nails into the earth, or bury my face in the pillow, or stretch myself taut, or raise my hands to the sky and want, more than all the world, your return.”

― Mary Jean Irion

I ride the pendulum of you every day. From one moment to the next and back again, I feel it all. You are perfect. This is a disaster. Where did you go? I don't know how to do this. I want you to have everything, like everyone else. You will. You won't. Are you happy? Am I? And finally, always, how could life be any better? This is exactly how it should be. And so, it is. I step off the ride for a bit. I become grounded. This is where the love grows best, naturally. When I am grounded, my roots take hold. I look at you. I see you. Photo by Olivia Gatti Facebook :: Website

I ride the pendulum of you every day. From one moment to the next and back again, I feel it all. You are perfect. This is a disaster. Where did you go? I don't know how to do this. I want you to have everything, like everyone else. You will. You won't. Are you happy? Am I? And finally, always, how could life be any better? This is exactly how it should be. And so, it is. I step off the ride for a bit. I become grounded. This is where the love grows best, naturally. When I am grounded, my roots take hold. I look at you. I see you.

Photo by Olivia Gatti

Facebook :: Website


last night the older three went to have sleepovers with their grandparents.  you were my one and only.  i am trying to remember if this was our one and only night without them.  i guess there were those days in the hospital seven months ago.  those days that now feel like a lifetime ago.  i didn’t particularly enjoy those days as much as i enjoyed last night.  we didn’t do much with our alone time.  just slept and slept and slept a little more.  pretty perfect really.  Photo by Heather Robinson Photography Blog :: Facebook

last night the older three went to have sleepovers with their grandparents.  you were my one and only.  i am trying to remember if this was our one and only night without them.  i guess there were those days in the hospital seven months ago.  those days that now feel like a lifetime ago.  i didn’t particularly enjoy those days as much as i enjoyed last night.  we didn’t do much with our alone time.  just slept and slept and slept a little more.  pretty perfect really. 

Photo by Heather Robinson Photography

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January | 2017

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January | 2017

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Two Seasons

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Two Seasons

We met during two very different seasons. Summer, a time for growth. Winter, a time for hibernation. A perfect metaphor for pregnancy and infancy. This little one shines with that truth, too. She has been kissed by the sun's rays and embraced by loving arms in a warm shelter. Stories like these make my heart sing. Life is beautiful. The cycle of the seasons is in us all. This family is simply wonderful. 

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A Normal Day

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A Normal Day

“Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me learn from you, love you, bless you before you depart. Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow. Let me hold you while I may, for it may not always be so. One day I shall dig my nails into the earth, or bury my face in the pillow, or stretch myself taut, or raise my hands to the sky and want, more than all the world, your return.”

― Mary Jean Irion

More than anything, you want to be an aerialist. You ask me constantly to get you classes. I think, as a parent, I'm scared I'm missing a chance to give you the start to finding your special gift. This isn't like soccer or swimming or field hockey or girl scouts, where your interest waned. I see how much you need this, in almost everything you do and every way you move. I need to find you some classes. This year, I promise I'll find you your outlet.  Photo by Olivia Gatti Facebook :: Website

More than anything, you want to be an aerialist. You ask me constantly to get you classes. I think, as a parent, I'm scared I'm missing a chance to give you the start to finding your special gift. This isn't like soccer or swimming or field hockey or girl scouts, where your interest waned. I see how much you need this, in almost everything you do and every way you move. I need to find you some classes. This year, I promise I'll find you your outlet. 

Photo by Olivia Gatti

Facebook :: Website


lately you have been spending more time in the bathroom.  you go in to brush your teeth and i later come to check on you.  there you are still gripping the toothbrush in your hand, the toothpaste still on it, and the water running.  your eyes are fixed on the mirror in front of you.  it is like you are in a trance.  you say to me, “mama, i don’t feel the same anymore.  mama, i don’t look the same anymore.”  i reassure you that this is a normal part of growing up and the same thing happens to me.  i tell you not to worry.  i tell you that you will always be you and i will always be me.  the days just add more layers to us.  i get to know each of your layers.  and with time you will know mine. i tell you not to worry.  yet, i find myself questioning my own advice.  i see you lost in your thoughts and i worry because i know that sometimes these layers hide us from those we love.  now i tell myself not to worry.  i will dig as deep as i have to.  i will always find you.   Photo by Heather Robinson Photography Blog :: Facebook

lately you have been spending more time in the bathroom.  you go in to brush your teeth and i later come to check on you.  there you are still gripping the toothbrush in your hand, the toothpaste still on it, and the water running.  your eyes are fixed on the mirror in front of you.  it is like you are in a trance.  you say to me, “mama, i don’t feel the same anymore.  mama, i don’t look the same anymore.”  i reassure you that this is a normal part of growing up and the same thing happens to me.  i tell you not to worry.  i tell you that you will always be you and i will always be me.  the days just add more layers to us.  i get to know each of your layers.  and with time you will know mine. i tell you not to worry.  yet, i find myself questioning my own advice.  i see you lost in your thoughts and i worry because i know that sometimes these layers hide us from those we love.  now i tell myself not to worry.  i will dig as deep as i have to.  i will always find you.  

Photo by Heather Robinson Photography

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A Normal Day

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A Normal Day

“Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me learn from you, love you, bless you before you depart. Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow. Let me hold you while I may, for it may not always be so. One day I shall dig my nails into the earth, or bury my face in the pillow, or stretch myself taut, or raise my hands to the sky and want, more than all the world, your return.”

― Mary Jean Irion

Watching you, watching her, check her birthday texts. Photo by Olivia Gatti Facebook :: Website

Watching you, watching her, check her birthday texts.

Photo by Olivia Gatti

Facebook :: Website


it is difficult to pinpoint exactly what i love most about this time with little ones.  but if i had to pick one thing, i would say, "wonder".  how can i not love the endless wonder?   Photo by Heather Robinson Photography Blog :: Facebook

it is difficult to pinpoint exactly what i love most about this time with little ones.  but if i had to pick one thing, i would say, "wonder".  how can i not love the endless wonder?  

Photo by Heather Robinson Photography

Blog :: Facebook

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Reunion

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Reunion

Ah, the hillbilly hide-away. Nearly six months later, I can look at these and laugh, but upon arriving at our lake-side camp for our family reunion this summer, my heart sank. For nine years my family has successfully used VRBO type summer rental sites to vacation all over, from Hawaii to Florida and on and on. And they had always been incredible. So pulling into this little spot, strewn with trash and bottle caps, the lawn over grown and construction materials everywhere, I fought back tears and tried to figure out how to make this place paradise for nearly 30 of us, traveling to Maine from as far as the West Coast and England. 

Never underestimate the power of one p.o.-ed momma. We got a crew in to clean it up immediately, the landlord (absentee, of course) quaking in his boots. And as our family arrived that first afternoon, the power of love and togetherness gently pushed the disappointment I was feeling away. The utter joy and freedom the kids had together and immediately was like a magic tonic. So was the beautiful lake water just a 100 yards from our cabins.

The bright-side of such simple surroundings is that we found our pleasure in each other. Every night we all pulled the picnic tables together and ate dinner, we made camp fires and sat around them late into the night, sharing stories and laughing so hard our sides hurt. We played games like telephone and soccer and pick-up. We threw the kids off the dock every night under a tremendous super moon. We made it entirely ours. Glad to call these people mine. Near or far.  

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A Normal Day

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A Normal Day

“Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me learn from you, love you, bless you before you depart. Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow. Let me hold you while I may, for it may not always be so. One day I shall dig my nails into the earth, or bury my face in the pillow, or stretch myself taut, or raise my hands to the sky and want, more than all the world, your return.”

― Mary Jean Irion

Cabin fever looks like this. Photo by Olivia Gatti Facebook :: Website

Cabin fever looks like this.

Photo by Olivia Gatti

Facebook :: Website


big present.  even bigger emotions. Photo by Heather Robinson Photography Blog :: Facebook

big present.  even bigger emotions.

Photo by Heather Robinson Photography

Blog :: Facebook

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A Year in Photos :: 2016

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A Year in Photos :: 2016

My year in photos. 

I began my third Photo-a-Day "Project" this year with shooting film daily. But guess what? Film is expensive! So I shot digitally daily as well. In fact, I did, like, two 365s in one, and what I put together here is a mix of the film and digital, and basically are my favorite images from my year, because I've been doing this for so long, I just said, "F--- it! I can end it here. And somedays are missing. And somedays have more than one shot." And I'll keep shooting daily, probably, forever.

These images are, after a few solid years of this practice, some of my most raw and real. They are imperfect. I was experimenting all year with film, film stocks, formats and then with different digital systems as well. Just trying to find a comfort-level. 

In the end I shot with Canon, Nikon, Sony, Fuji, Mamiya, Yashica, Konica, and Pentax systems. 

Lastly, I'll add that the music in here speaks to the year I had. I learned about both these artists from friends who creatively feed my soul, and for that I am thankful. This music inspires and moves me and I love it. I hope you do too.

Thank you for taking a look. Hit the HD button for best results. It was a beautiful year.

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