Come, my beloved, let us go out into the country, let us see whether the vine has budded and its blossoms have opened, and whether the pomegranates have bloomed. There I will give you my love. Song of Songs 7:12 NAS
We decided the week before to get married. Secretly. Just Us. Two hours drive to a beautiful setting.
We booked the scene, the minister, and the time slot. We went to our courthouse to get the marriage license and giggled the whole time. I called the wedding 'consultant' to ask for local recommendations for a florist and a cake.
"Piggly Wiggly has nice cakes," she told me.
We laughed about that for years. I eventually got the number of a real baker and a real florist, and had white tulips and a beautiful cake-for-two delivered to our hotel pre-ceremony.
He came to my house at noon in a kelly green polo shirt, with a cooler in the backseat of his car. Champagne and two flutes chilling for later.
We drove a few hours, changed clothes in our hotel (listening to Enya and James Taylor) and went to our site. It was beautiful and windy. We were married.
We laughed through the ceremony, when I always thought I would cry at my wedding. I handed somone my camera, and have several snapshots that define Happy.
We walked around the water after it was over, and to a multi-star restaurant for a take-home dinner order.
After a delicious meal, and a delicious husband, we left the hotel for air near midnight. We climbed the concrete steps of a historic building and sat with a tall view of the water. He held me as the breeze blew.
