This cottage has sheltered some family honeymooners, but as far as we're aware, no nuptials have ever taken place here. Until today. What a happy additon to the long history of this house.
Married people clasping hands.
The bride is a priest, and presided during the communion service.
The champagne and sparkling cider were chilled and ready.
So was the food.
Ruth seeks a handout from the groom.
She later embarked upon a love affair with the wedding couple's dog, who was secreted in the back bedroom.
The wedding planner and official event photographer with her most unruly assistant, who unfortunately detected the presence of the Other Dog. And in one tense moment, came face to face with him.
After some fellowship and photo ops around the cottage, on the dock, and on the porch, we became a moveable feast and headed up to Wolfeboro for a wedding dinner at El Centenario. Tableside guacamole and salsa, lots of margaritas, many plates of chicken mole, just as many of flan, and a combustible dessert.
Believe it or not, this is ice cream.
It's fried ice cream, flamed with rum and sprinkled with cinnamon. And topped with whipped cream and chocolate.
Driving home through the dusk, the Chap and I were listening to "our" songs, some of which we heard the night we married. The perfect conclusion to a powerfully and profoundly romantic day.
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