A beautiful morning

I've always been a "morning person." I've always been a naturally early-riser. I've always loved breakfast. I've always loved mornings. 

You know who else does too? 

This guy. 

He wakes up early like his momma. I think it's a good trait as long as I get up a bit before him to start my day, which rarely happens, but this morning it did! I cherished the time. 

Andrew sighs, "He's like a Bolotte" in reference to my family, who, in majority, wakes up early. 

I am thankful for small morning blessings like fresh fruit {and a football} in my fruit bowl. 

And my breakfast bars came out pretty tasty. 

{Recipe found here.} I made half raspberry and half blueberry. The raspberry preserves came from the farmer's market and the blueberry was Bonne Maman.} 

I am thankful that my inexpensive purple flowers were still intact from last weekend's football festivities. It truly is the most wonderful time of the year. 

Like most mornings, John Henry and I went on a walk before his morning nap. The sunshine and slight chill in the air are glorious. 

But my favorite part about mornings is this truth: 

That is so beautiful.