A newborn swaddled in chunky knit, blue pacifier in hand, gazing upward. That was the beginning. Cass had already documented this family’s maternity session, celebrated their daughter’s arrival at their San Francisco home. Now came the rest (the first days, the siblings leaning in to touch her face, the father guiding a toddler’s hand toward his baby sister wrapped in white).







Their home had those San Francisco windows everywhere, tucked into corners, spilling light across rooms in ways that shifted the mood. Mustard knit sweaters against cream linens. Golden shirts by bright doorways. Rust cardigans framed in sheer curtains. The light did the work (warm, tender, honest). Two children pointing at illustrated fish in a picture book. A laughing toddler’s face framed by gentle hands. Parents on the stairs, on the sofa, in the courtyard, holding their babies close.






By the end, their newborn was asleep in a white bassinet by a window, hanging vines filtering the light. A family that knew what they wanted: real moments, their home, no pretense. Cass was there for all of it.






