Sunday mornings always seem to be the most hectic morning of the week.
Who wants to sit on that stool when you come over for dinner? 🙂
Apparently, so hectic that I can’t even get underwear on my children before breakfast.
We like to take our Sunday afternoons at a slightly slower pace…
See Pace riding her own horse like a big girl?!
Some dear friends came over to share the afternoon with us.
One of them was a sweet birthday girl. Happy 7th birthday Morgan!! Thanks to your Mom for feeding us all lunch on your big day!
Pirate stories on the water.
And sunset.
With the boys. Now I'm off for a little time with the wives. Hope you had some relaxing fun on your Sunday as well.
A perfect day:)) And another one TODAY……………..HAPPY BIRTHDAY PACE!!!!!!!!! Xoxoxoxoxoxoxo:))))
I almost fell out of my chair laughing at M.A’s tiny heiny =) please save that for her wedding week! or her senior page lol
Oh my. Dapples butt just made my day! Thank you, thank you.
I can’t believe how big they both are!
;0) Love the pic of the pirate stories. HAPPY BIRTHDAY PACE!
love these pictures! so glad you captured their time. love the last one of the boys’ silhouettes against the sunset. and enjoyed our hang out time last night:)! hope pace enjoyed her day.
Looks perfect!
Beautiful pictures!
we are ready to come visit… and i will sit on that stool 😉
I am ‘stealing’ your Drake quote. Thank you for that. It made me wonder where Sir Francis died, so this is for you from Wiki:
“After the Armada rounded Scotland it headed south for home. However, a strong gale drove many of the ships onto the Irish rocks. Thousands of Spaniards drowned and even those who reached land were often killed by English soldiers and settlers. Of the 25,000 men that had set out in the Armada, less than 10,000 arrived home safely… He (Drake) led another exhibition to the Caribbean in 1595 and the following year died of dysentery at sea. He is said to be buried at Porto Bello (Panama) on 27th January 1596.” [spartacus.schoolnet.co.uk and Wikipedia]
I imagined you filling in this story with a tale about one of those Catholic Spaniards hitting the rocks under fire from Elizabethans on shore, hiding himself and coming to Christ as an undercover sheep herder/silversmith/beggar/Protestant pastor… after losing his Spanish accent of course?!
May you tell many stories, and may they fill us up with wonder and inspiration.