We had so much fun at our farm wedding ten years ago that we
have repeated the outdoor celebration each year since. This year the Farmer
announced that he quits. He no longer wants to go to all that effort for one
night of partying.
“I’m getting too old for this. It’s been ten years!” he
declared.
“But it’s your tenth anniversary!” said Paulina, who has
always been the biggest fan of the farm party. It also falls on the same week
as her birthday each year – and she does love to dance under the stars. After a
bit of discussion, I decided to let the kids plan the party, one last time. And
then I tried really hard not to do any of the work myself. The Farmer was a
little more successful in that area.
The night before the party, a keg arrived. We have never had
beer on draft at our party before and it was certainly taking things up a
notch, with former bartenders as the party organizers. During set up of said
beer keg, however, a tiny black washer ring fell and disappeared through the
wooden floorboards of the porch. We couldn’t hook up the keg without it. The
Farmer went to the shed to find a suitable substitute, but failed. The owner of
the “kegerator” said he would go home and get a new one. Everyone groaned. It
was the end of a long day, we were all hot and tired and in need of a cold
beer. Farmwife to the rescue. I limbo’d and squatted my way around the house
under the porch and miraculously found the washer ring lying in a nest of
vines. “That’s why he married young,” I joked, as my knees creaked.
The tent had also arrived the night before the party, but
perhaps just to make us nervous, the party organizers decided to leave it until
the day of the party and go out with friends instead. The Farmer shook his
head.
The day of the party, I had to be away from home until about
3 in the afternoon. I received a few texts during the time I was away, about
the location of different items, so I knew the ‘kids’ were busy setting up the
big event. On the drive home I was pleasantly surprised to see road signs en
route declaring “Fisher Farm Party This Way!” because I was imagining a last
minute scramble to get things done.
I arrived home to a complete party scene. Paper lanterns
lined the driveway. A long dining tent was set up on the front lawn over tables
set with linens and candles. Next to that was a circle of lawn chairs around a
fire pit. Club music was coming from the barn, which had been set up like a
stage with lighting, speakers and equipment. The kids had successfully
organized their own farm party. The Farmer had successfully spent the better
part of the afternoon watching “Twelve O’Clock High” in the living room.
Every year we get a few surprise guests and this year was no
exception. It was great to see an old friend who had moved away in Grade 6 and
another whom I had been keeping in touch with on Facebook for several years.
Local musician George Buys played and sang as the sun set on an absolutely
perfect evening and the Farmer grilled up three dozen burgers and sausages. The
dining room table groaned with salads and snacks and our resident baker, Amy,
brought cupcakes. I also had an ice cream cake for Paulina’s birthday but had left
it to thaw on the table in the basement. When I finally remembered it, I
discovered the cats were having a party of their own, in the puddles of melted
ice cream that were dripping off the table onto the cement floor. Paulina said
the melted cake made a perfect lunch treat after party cleanup the next day.
I don’t think the Farmer and I will be hosting another farm
party in honour of our wedding anniversary. It’s been ten years and it’s time
to pass the torch on to the next generation. Next year we will be hosting a
wedding reception for Paulina and Carey. The year after that, perhaps another
wedding or engagement party, or a baby shower…it may be the end of the annual
farm party, but I’m sure our home will be the venue for many more family
celebrations to come.
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email: dianafisher1@gmail.com
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