My cousin got married this weekend up in Maine. It was a gorgeous wedding, the theme was a kind of country garden party and here’s a photo of the fairy lights they used in the barn.
Getting to their part of Maine from NYC is a bit of a trick. Most public transport only gets you as far as Bangor or Portland, which is still a significant drive. Or, it costs an arm, a leg and several airline transfers to get to a nearer-by airport. Which is a very, very tiny airport.
Instead, I drove up with a friend (she did most of the driving, at least till we got up there and there were fun country roads to zip around on. We ate lobster, stayed at a gorgeous lakeside house, went to the wedding on Saturday, and zipped back down to the city on Sunday.
The wedding was gorgeous. Sunny weather, a bit on the warm side but held at sundown; the bride was stunning and my cousin, the groom, looked fantastic in 20s-inspired gear. Instead of a wedding cake, my grandmother had baked tiny cupcakes for everyone, which my grandfather helped to decorate. As the night went on, the meal broke up into dancing and reminiscing.
Monday morning, now. Time to let reality back in.