Flowers have always been at the heart of my life, and so, of course, they were at the heart of our wedding.
Wild and lush and spilling over - that is always how I have loved my flowers and myself most. So beautifully glorious that it almost hurts, so radiant and stunning and freely themselves that I cannot help but stop to stare.
There is a kind of wild abandon in the way they draped over everything, a truth to it, a loveliness that nothing else can imitate. They laid themselves out, so full of radiance, the way nothing else can be so deeply and honestly itself.
Their silky softness, delicate and elegant, juxtaposed against the very wholesome knowing that these silky odes to perfection also came from rich, deep soil, their softness born from the solidness of earth.
Now dancing in the breeze, their petals would pay homage to the wind while their impermanence whispered of that kind of beauty which only appears fleetingly just before it disappears, like a deer in the mist at dawn or a hummingbird’s wings just before it flits away.
Flowers were at the heart of my wedding because they are at the heart of me, sweeping petals speaking softly of long summer days in silk dresses and running barefoot through fields of wildflowers, idly soaking in the sun after a morning of strawberries and poetry.
These are the moments that flowers speak of, the moments I want to capture and carry home with me in a basket, only to weave them into myself one by one at night under candlelight so that I will never forget what it is the be so in love with the world.
Flowers hold this kind of beauty, the kind you want to bury into yourself, the kind you want to remember forever.
