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?