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Friday, August 28, 2009

Two Years and Counting!

The arrival of chrysanthemums at the grocery store, the mist on the pasture in the evening, and the turning of the early maples from green to yellow and red. These are the signs that summer is nearly over, I’m sorry to say. But there are many reasons why I love this time of year.
Two years ago this week, I became Mrs. Farmer Fisher. We had a great big farm party with an itty bitty wedding in the middle. That’s the way we wanted it. We pitched a party tent and the college caterer set up tables with black and white linens beneath it –on top of the dance floor that the Farmer built.
I bought about 75 colourful candle holders from the dollar store and filled my car with pots of chrysanthemums. Annie and I took the truck over to the bridal place in South Mountain and filled it with decorative screen doors, latticework, silk flowers and miles of fluffy white tulle.
The Farmer built a rose arbour and placed it under the old cedar-rail swing set. This became our altar.
During the week leading up to the wedding, I watched as the farm was transformed into a sacred place.
We took a lot of the typical “fussing” out of our wedding preparations, which in turn I think reduced the chance of nerves.
We let the girls – our ready-made bridal party – choose their own dresses for the event. This could have backfired, in hindsight, but it didn’t. They chose sundresses and cocktail dresses that went perfectly together.
When we originally decided that we would be married on the farm, I suggested I get a pretty white sundress to wear.
“What? You should go for the whole shebang,” the Farmer retorted, “you don’t skimp on the kitchen in a house.”
Hmm. That gave pause for thought. Eventually I found the dress of my dreams in a bridal salon that was closing, so the price wasn’t a nightmare.
I’m happy that we decided to go formal, because the contrast of fancy dress against a backdrop of weathered barn board makes for some beautifully dramatic photographs.
Our girls were a big part of our wedding ceremony. I have always loved “The Prophet” by Kahlil Gibran, so we had each of the girls read a verse from the chapter “On Children”.
After announcing that I thought we should write our own vows, I struggled for a few days to find the perfect words for this life-changing moment. Then I graciously offered to help the Farmer write his. He had already written his all by himself, and they were perfect. The man never ceases to amaze me.
Every bride should be blessed with at least one lifelong friend. Mine helped me plan, decorate, realize and clean up after my wedding day. She brought her own flowerbed over in pots. She made bouquets of rainbow-coloured gerbera daisies for the bridal party. She planted candles in all corners of the yard – and remembered to light them when it got dark. She acted as our official wedding photographer for the day, and made a musical montage of the event for us to watch every year (I’ve already seen it at least a dozen times).
When I told Jenny I was getting married again, she agreed to help me with the preparations but warned, “I’ve got to meet this guy first.” I might have had one fleeting moment of worry before I realized that if I loved him, she would too.
The night Jenny came over to meet the Farmer, I made quick introductions and cracked open a bottle of red wine. Within half an hour, Jen’s legs were flung over the arm of the chair she was sitting in and she had the Farmer doing the deep belly-laugh thing. They were very much at ease with each other, right from the beginning. Phew.
The morning of our wedding day, a heavy fog hung in the air. The forecast threatened rain, but we didn’t care. We were ready. As the Farmer repeatedly stated, “whatever happens, at the end of the day we’ll be married, and that’s all that matters.”
I wasn’t a nervous bride. I was excited.
Danny Rembadi played his guitar as our guests arrived, while the Farmer and his best man/brother squinted up at the ominous clouds. The wind whipped at the arbour, which had to be lashed to the swing set.
The girls locked me in the back bedroom and helped me transform into a glowing bride. It wasn’t until I was already down the stairs and heading for the patio door that I realized my veil was on backwards. I did a quick switcheroo that took about ten minutes – just long enough to make everyone wonder if I had changed my mind. Not a chance.
Jen handed us the bouquets she had made, and they were perfect. We heard the music prompting our entrance, and the patio door opened. There was Dad in his best suit, holding his hand out to me. I think it was shaking a little. Later he said that he had been nervous, because he knew how important this day was to me.
I was surrounded by the people I loved, and joining my heart with the man who made me the happiest I had ever been. I really wasn’t nervous at all, and I didn’t cry. I just felt wonderful. I looked up at my new husband, and everyone else disappeared.
Someone very powerful held the clouds up, and save a few drops that escaped His grip, the rain held off until much later that evening, when the party under the tent was well underway. It’s supposed to be good luck to have rain on your wedding day, I was told.
A strong wind blew in and threatened to steal my veil. To me it served as a reminder that what we were doing was serious, that life would bring many surprises, both good and bad, and that we would need each other to get through them all. That prophecy has already proved itself true several times over in our first two years. But I know by now that we made the right decision. I never thought I’d marry again. And every day now I am reminded, in one way or another, that I am so lucky to have found someone to walk through life with.
I highly endorse the idea of getting married at home. It fills your house with happy memories to bless you for a lifetime together, and there is far less chance of losing grandma between the ceremony and the reception.
I know the Farmer rarely reads my columns, because they are a bit too autobiographical for his comfort at times. But if you are reading this my dear, I want you to know, that I am so happy to be your Farmwife, and I look forward to many more seasons on the farm together. Happy Anniversary!

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