We went to the Renaissance Festival on Sunday. That’s me riding the elephant with my granddaughter. She wanted to ride it, NOT me. (We are on the second elephant in the picture.)
It was a glorious day, with the perfect amount of sunshine and a light breeze. I can’t imagine wearing the clothing of that age. Yards and yards of heavy fabric went into those dresses! And the jousting! Those poor men were dripping wet beneath their heavy armors.
We walked around, munching on turkey drumsticks, and had a wonderful time, but all in all it reminded me that I’m a western gal at heart. I’d rather have the cowboy with his six-shooter than the knight in shining armor.
This week I’m working on the fourth Quinter Bride story, it’s been calling me to give it some attention. Poor Snake, try as he might, his mother outfoxes him.