A Quiver of Arrows

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Jake and Derek rode their bikes to Blackwell last weekend, while the rest of us (including the dog) assumed the role of arms-bearers and drove their bows and arrows to meet them there.

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The place was packed, so it was crucial that they followed the archery range etiquette.

First, you shoot all the arrows in your quiver.

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Then, when everyone in the range has depleted their quiver, everyone yells, “Clear” and they retrieve their arrows.

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You get bonus points for smiling. (At least with Mom)

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Meanwhile, the three younger kids and I, along with Molly, hiked up the little-known landmark in Warrenville, Illinois, Mt. Trashmore.

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From here, we took lots of pictures,

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while Molly made a new friend named Napolean.

Scratch that, Ruthie made a new friend named Napolean.

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