One year later

A year ago, Chad and I planted two apple trees in our front yard and I snapped a photo of Tate standing next to the taller of the two. It was just a twig, and so was he. If he looks a little sullen in the photo, it's because about an hour later he began retching...and didn't stop for nearly three days. (More disgusting details could follow here, but won't.)

I can't get over how teeny he is here. 

A year later, here they are again. The tree looks like a teenager -- spindly and gawky, but it has its first wee apple buds starting to grow, which thrills me to no end. And Tate is still holding on tightly to his toddler belly but is getting longer and leaner everyday. 

Who knows how long we'll stay in Portland and how long I'll be able to document my son's growth versus the growth of a certain Pacific Rose apple tree. I have visions of him coming home from college or even high school -- this strapping lad that rests his arm on the sturdy girth of our blossoming apple tree -- we snap a picture, post it on our blog, and all go inside to eat homemade apple pie. Because of course, in dreams like this where boys come home from college to see mom, apple harvest is in springtime.