There are graves in Boston's North End cemetery that are worn, flaked, erased to the point of anonymity, but still standing. I like to think that the second set is a mama and her baby, mama still protecting her baby.
It's a journal, a scrapbook, a record of my kid's childhood. It's about food, it's about the pleasures of gardening. It's where I wear my heart on my sleeve, play with words and rail at the world. It's where I muse, and where I indulge my inner magpie. I have one irascible child, and not enough time to read.
If you'd like, you can email me at magpiemusing AT gmail DOT com.