Our Wedding: A Handmade Celebration, Part 1

Monday, August 24th, 2009

On September 6th, 2008, I had the best day of my life. My true love Rufus and I got married on a field in Maine, in the company of our wonderful family and friends.

Rufus and I met at on December 31st, 2003, at a New Year’s Eve party in the woods. We kissed at midnight, just like in the movies and the fairy tales and the very best daydreams. It was a swoon-worthy start to our life together.

Another swoon-worthy thing that occurred early on in our courtship? Rufus attended a Crafternoon. This was just a few weeks after we started dating, and I certainly didn’t expect him to attend a lady-heavy crafting event with my friends and my mom. So I gave him the soft-sell, warning him of the gabbing and knitting that was scheduled to occur, and I assured him that he certainly didn’t have to be there. But he showed up at my apartment on a cold January Sunday, and then he started knitting. The sweet boy already knew how to knit. I think the crafting ladies let out a collective gasp, and I knew right then and there: this one is a keeper.

We got engaged on Christmas Day 2007, just a few days before our four-year anniversary, and we immediately knew we wanted to get married in Maine. Rufus grew up in Maine, and his mom lives in a gorgeous spot that’s just perfect for a celebration. We also knew that we wanted to have a creative wedding with lots of handmade elements that reflected our own creativity. And that’s exactly the sort of wedding we had.

So in celebration of our (almost) one year anniversary, I’m going to post little tales of the handmade things that made our wedding weekend so blissful. So many people contributed their talent and hard work so our day could be magical, and we are truly thankful. We celebrated our decision to join our lives together surrounded by arts and crafts and friends, and that’s exactly how we want to live our life.

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Morning in Maine

Friday, November 28th, 2008

Thanksgiving morning, I got up with the sun to take the dog out. This was not my choice, as you might imagine. I’d much rather be in bed, sleeping late on my day off. But after my chest had been pounced on repeatedly and several slippers seemed in grave danger of being destroyed, I finally gave in and got up.

The light was keen, and there was frost on every surface.

The grass was coated.

The berries were sealed.

And the weeds had a cool winter covering.

If I had woken up late, I would have missed the frost altogether.

I’m glad that I saw it instead.

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