It's All in the {Wedding} Details

Six months ago we said I do. It’s been a joyous whirlwind, but if history is my guide, it’s only going to move faster. So today I’m sharing a few of our wedding day details: those things that added a touch of invisible sparkle, brought warmth to our hearts, and carried those we love with us. Barely noticeable yet cherished objects, fleeting moments, and glimses of the sun’s reflection fill me with emotion and it’s these things that create the story of our lives, whether we realize it at the time or not.

Details mean different things to different people, but for us, it was largely about having our day be just that — our day — and for me personally, it had a lot to do with finding ways for my late father be with me in spirit. We were swayed from an elopement to a celebration with family, but made sure everything we did was in keeping with our initial wishes of peace, intimacy, and simplicity. We stripped the ceremony and celebration down to the root of our celebration: love.

Last summer I shared the story behind having our celebration at my childhood home, which was also the inspiration for our invitation design. To toast to our lifetime in the same garden in which I have so many cherished memories was without a doubt the perfect choice — the only choice.

Passed hors d’oeuvres filled guests’ bellies, the timelessness of big band classics (and a few Dead covers) filled the air without a show, and lots of laughter cheered our souls. Clouds floated through the sky, a soft breeze graced the air, and bliss danced in our hearts.

It was our perfect summer party: a little old-fashioned, casually elegant, and simply classic.


As my mind reeled with ways I could carry a piece of my dad with me, I started thinking about what he might wear if he were here, and as seems the trend for our wedding, it was an obvious and easy choice. Quite quickly, and I’m sure by divine inspiration, I decided to forgo ribbon around my bouquet and use one of my dad’s bowties. He was a bowtie connoisseur of sorts — a habitual wearer and a near collector — and this was his favorite.

I wore my mother’s earrings, a Christmas gift from my dad. My engagement ring was made as a replica of my mother’s — by my childhood neighbor and best friend.

I wore my mother’s earrings, a Christmas gift from my dad. My engagement ring was made as a replica of my mother’s — by my childhood neighbor and best friend.

At first a veil was an afterthought. But when I was offered the one worn by my paternal grandmother and her sister (both of whom I never met) nearly 100 years ago I knew that if I chose to wear one, this would be it. (All of my female cousins on my dad’s side wore it, too!) When I tried it on it felt like magic.

Just before the first look, Luke presented our photographer with two pairs of shoes and he wanted her to ask me which he should wear. When she described the two pairs of shoes, I asked about the details of one pair to confirm my hunch. They were my father’s shoes. I cried for the first and only time that day. And Luke wore my dad’s shoes.

(I should’ve known my sly dad would figure out a way to walk with me!)

In our effort to have the ceremony feel more like we had eloped, we chose not to process down the aisle in front of our guests. (And as people who are averse to attention, we were also looking to minimize fanfare.) After our first look, we drove to the church together. We walked down the aisle in the midst of empty pews and sat at the altar alone. We chatted and laughed as we waited, and immersed ourselves in our own world — the world in which we could focus solely on one another and the commitment we were about to make. Our guests drifted in unbeknownst to me, and the ceremony began.

For the kids. And the kids at heart. What would a backyard summer party be without ice cream sticks? (And fireworks!)

After I was born, my parents bought and stored a case of 1981 Bordeaux, the same vintage as my birth year. While their intention was that they would serve it at my wedding, I’m certain that said wedding took place well after they thought it would. So a little bit selfishly, and also because we didn’t even know whether it was still good, we hung on to it until our solo dinner that night. We hopped in the car in the early evening light and drove five minutes to a local inn. We ate bacon cheeseburgers on a covered porch overlooking a river, listened to the rain pour down, and drank the best wine we’ve ever drunk.

Here’s to happily ever after.


Huge thanks to our amazing photographer, Heather (Heather Renee Weddings), for capturing our day in a way we couldn’t have imagined. It is through her imagery that I am able to share pieces of our story.