During the final week Malia and I did a mock up of the reception table.
Then I lived with it for a few days, tweaking, finishing, making it worthy to groan under the homemade English fare I had carefully planned for the most wonderful of occasions….
I trimmed the edges of Hubs’ beautiful, hand crafted, refectory table with burlap ribbon.
I tied tulle bows for each corner affixing them with hot glue.
I laid a burlap runner down the centre, wrapped books and boxes to add levels and placed the mason jar vases and candles.
The benches on either side of the old, weathered, wooden boards completed the medieval English look and set the scene perfectly.
I labelled the wedding china to take the guess work out of where each breakfast item was going to go on The Day!
Friday dawned clear and bright.
Daughts and fiancee went with me to the Flower Farm to pick some blooms for her bouquet and around,
“I want it to look as though I just went into the woods to gather wild flowers…” she said.
Cynthia had shown us how to work with foliage and on our way home we stopped along the hedgerows to gather snow on the prairie, sunflowers from our meadow, lantana, zinnia and lavender from my flowerbed and clippings from the live oak & holly tress to add as filler and round out the collection we had gathered from the farm.
We made her bouquet first
and popped it in the fridge to cure overnight before tying it with the ribbon we had used to trim her dress.
We used the back of the truck to arrange the other flowers and greens in an assortment of metal buckets, mason jars and vases,
“I feel as though we are doing altar guild in England,” I commented remembering the harvest festival there and how we had put out a call for everyone to bring a few blooms from their gardens to decorate the church.
I felt so blessed to be standing with my soon-to-be-wed Daughts making pretty arrangements with freshly cut flowers and greens…a simple and intimate activity reminiscent of homeschooling at its very best…
Later Paris arrived in a cacophony of loud honking. I hugged her,
“I could hear you all the way down 543 you wild woman!”
“You could?” She laughed, “I passed Pops and Ian bringing in the hay…
…since when have you had a tractor?”
“We don’t!” It was my turn to laugh.
Our truck had refused to start when Ian and Hubs were heading off to the winery to pick up hay bales.
They were enjoying the lark of driving Ray’s tractor along a main road too much,
to pay any attention to Ian’s runny eyes and wheezy chest until they had unloaded the bales safely under the pavilion,
“…just in case it rains….” Hubs said.
“Mum, do you have an inhaler?” Ian asked coughing and spluttering, “I didn’t think to bring mine from L.A.”
As soon as he had arrived at Footlights from California he had started sneezing thanks to the temporary addition of our two barn kittens to the household,
“They are having way too much fun outside in the wood chips and tulle,” I explained apologetically.
The dried grasses had been the last straw…(lol)
I put Paris to work decanting cream cheese, jam, freshly baked granola, yogurt and clotted cream into decorative mason jars and making the tags describing the scone, bagel and fresh fruit toppings.
Later the three os us went to hammer in the three custom signs along the lane…so that everyone would know exactly where the McKellogg Wedding was taking place!
Then it was time to pick up Simon to round out the sibling count.
With his help we completed the pathway to the chapel and spread the last of the wood chips before settling down with a beer.
We ate a sumptuous feast on the Footlights screened in porch,
The McNeny clan with the brothers Kellogg as guests of honor.
“I’ll wake everyone up tomorrow morning,” announced the bride-to-be as they set off for the barn to play life-size Jenga and hang.
For the first time since selling our family home the McNenys slept under the same roof…
Rain was forecast for the next day but we took no notice!
There was no plan B for Malia’s dream wedding and everything was poised in the wings ready to be put out in the morning by the family crew.
A funny aside…
Someone asked at Jazzercise,
“Are you working with a wedding planner?”
Heck no! We’re doing it ourselves, the McNeny way!
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