This post is Part 3 of a 3-Part series. Read Part 1 – Read Part 2 – Read Part 3

This wedding reception was romantically lit by candles, and with the sound of the rain falling outside, it was quite a cosy scene. For the photographers, this meant we were shooting in near-darkness. But we were not intimidated by this. Nor were Jackie and Marcus intimidated by having to stay indoors for the reception. These two regularly host a Game Night, at which Jackie directs her friends in riotous play, enforcing the rules where necessary and ensuring that everyone gets involved. They brought their love of games to the wedding reception. Never before have I seen wedding guests dash about so madly, counting the change in their pockets and taking off articles of clothing. It was astounding. Jackie and Marcus are awesome.

Thanks again to Joye of Green Fuse Photography for getting such great shots. The one of Jackie and Marcus next to the fountain is hers, and it’s my favorite shot of the whole day.

This post is Part 2 of a 3-Part series. Read Part 1 – Read Part 2 – Read Part 3

As you wait for photos from the ceremony to load, you may find yourself reflexively looking for a poem to read. Because that’s what usually happens here. Don’t worry, I won’t let you down! How about a poem about rain by Conrad Aiken?

Beloved, Let Us Once More Praise The Rain

Beloved, let us once more praise the rain.
Let us discover some new alphabet,
For this, the often praised; and be ourselves,
The rain, the chickweed, and the burdock leaf,
The green-white privet flower, the spotted stone,
And all that welcomes the rain; the sparrow too,—
Who watches with a hard eye from seclusion,
Beneath the elm-tree bough, till rain is done.
There is an oriole who, upside down,
Hangs at his nest, and flicks an orange wing,—
Under a tree as dead and still as lead;
There is a single leaf, in all this heaven
Of leaves, which rain has loosened from its twig:
The stem breaks, and it falls, but it is caught
Upon a sister leaf, and thus she hangs;
There is an acorn cup, beside a mushroom
Which catches three drops from the stooping cloud.
The timid bee goes back to the hive; the fly
Under the broad leaf of the hollyhock
Perpends stupid with cold; the raindark snail
Surveys the wet world from a watery stone…
And still the syllables of water whisper:
The wheel of cloud whirs slowly: while we wait
In the dark room; and in your heart I find
One silver raindrop,—on a hawthorn leaf,—
Orion in a cobweb, and the World.