The dawn is just about to break.  Morgan is sleeping-curled up with Byron.  The image would make a perfect card.

I have been up for hours importing images from the past into a modern form- scanning them into my computer for posterity, before the delicate paper crumbles more or something else happens to them.

I feel obsessed- there are so many stories to be told here- if only a muse would grant me the means to tell.  Where does one begin when the starting line is blurred?

Christmas cards from the late 1880s, a baby’s rattle…

My mother’s baby book: 1926 -Morgan is double her granny’s weight at 4….

Pictures of distant names from the past- what can I do for you?  Remember?  Share your stories…

Much of the afternoon is spent cooking with Morgan.  I’m obsessed with this too: cupcakes, peanut butter fudge, brownies, rum balls, and meatballs.  Now I just need to find a small city to share all the food with! Anyone hungry?