I just adore Sundays. They are my absolute favorite day of the week. Everything about them is divine: waking up mid-morning and sliding into my slippers to tramp out to the frozen porch to retrieve my frozen Sunday paper, and then hunkering back down in bed with said paper and a pot of lovely, lovely English breakfast tea whilst something quiet and Sunday-ish plays on my iTunes.
After an appropriate amount of time to fully enjoy all that the paper has to offer has passed, (noon or later) and setting the rest aside for lunchtimes later in the week, a trip to the library might be in order. A walk in the brisk air. A leisurely tea.
And always, always, a big, blowout Sunday dinner with friends and family.
This week's Sunday dinner was roast chicken stuffed with lemon, garlic, tarragon, and dill. Parsnip and celeriac mash was served on the side, along with the carrots that had roasted along side the chicken in my hefty Le Creuset pan.
Spice tea and shortbread cookies.
Walter attacking said shortbread cookies.
(Subsequently knocking them all onto the floor and stalking off satisfied with his dessert-fueled deviance)
The herbs, lemon, and, in the background, my new-ish
(it is an antique store find) wrot-iron cookbook holder!
More herbs and lemon for the chicken. Don't worry--the chicken had a happy life.
Giant flowers at Michael's.