I love, love, LOVE weddings--I got married twice myself. (Same husband--a ceremony with all the friends and family, and six years later, a small, traditional Jewish wedding after I converted.)
But I'm at an age now where most of my peers are married and I don't know enough "kids" who are old enough to tie the knot. So, it was with particular pleasure that I attended a wedding last weekend at Arrow Park in Monroe, New York.
A small group of us gathered in the woods, late afternoon sunlight streaming through the branches. At the edge of the clearing, a string ensemble played familiar classical pieces. "That's your song," whispered my son when the group began playing Pachelbel's Canon. (Was there ever a prettier piece of music for weddings?)
As the bride and groom exchanged vows, golden twilight was shimmering through the bride's veil like a halo.
The reception was in the elegantly rustic lodge at Arrow Park, a century-old mansion.
As we walked back to the car after the reception, the woods were dark and the stars were bright. We could hear the tree frogs singing their boisterous songs to each other. The air was soft and cool, scented with that fragile, glorious, giddy hopefulness of a wedding.
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