Weddings. I am of an age where there is always one somewhere on the horizon. And I look forward to each and every one. Not just because they symbolize something intrisically good and beautiful, but because each wedding offers up a distinctly unique character study to the careful observer. Weddings are essentially a dual-distillation of a personalities, (granted that the couple has conferred and concurred on the various elements.) When you attend a wedding, you are entering into a microcosm of two lives-- A single-day convergence of all things beloved. Thus, to be a part of the day is to be honoured. And it is an honour that is not lost on me.
This particular wedding was borne of two country kids: Small town. Stone church. Clay pots and hay bails. Sunshine and sunflowers. . . There was an informality to it that was so refreshing-- A Kick-off-the-shoes, let-your-hair-down, breathe-easy air about it. And at the end of the evening, I found myself being spun around on an old wooden barn floor to the irrisistible sound of good fiddling. Feet stomping. Hands clapping. Docey-doe's and Alaman left's. My husband had me by the waist, and we were both laughing.
May this be an ode to love and laughter at a country wedding, and to all things good and joyful.
