In search of the family tree

Chris and I were alone this weekend!  ALONE!  I took the boys up to Granny and Poppa's house on Friday night for a sleepover.  Add one blizzard Saturday, and didn't the little devils get a bonus night in fun-land?!  Chris and I didn't know what to do with ourselves.  I haven't had leisure time like that, in my own home, since before Charley was born.  It was so.... quiet?  I felt quite guilty being so still for so long.  And that, my friends, is just sad.

Off we went this morning to fetch the wee cubs.  We took the scenic route as it was a beautiful day.  -15 degrees Celsius,  plus a mean wind, but still beautiful.

We hopped out at the most perfect little church where I knew my great-grandparents were buried.  I haven't been to the church since my great grandmother died but I remembered where their headstone was.  I inherited the name, and certainly hope to have inherited the longevity from that side of the family.

It's truly a perfect little church, way up on a hill, with an amazing view all the way to Lake Ontario.  Chris looked around and then screamed like a little girl when the wind tried to bite his face off.  He hid in the car after that.

I managed a few shots before I too was forced into the relative warmth of the corolla.

Have the boys back now.  I hear they were 'very, very good' while they were away and I look forward to seeing that continue.  Ha!  I'm pretty sure there's some rule that states kids must be most cruel to their poor mummies.  We will see.