It has been almost a month since my little sister got married. She is no longer little, 'tis true, but still very much my beloved sister. She embodies a certain elegance and grace, a clarity of style and distinct vision that she has used to inform her work and her life. Since graduating from college in photo journalism she has shared her perspective on the world through insightful and thoughtful capturing of images. From weddings to farms she harnesses the essence of a moment, the spirit of what is, all with a devotion and eye to finding the fleeting beauty in each instant. And so her wedding was an actualization of her grace and distinct vision for each of us to live within over the course of three ephemeral days. We gathered in a greenhouse for the rehearsal dinner, hiked through a cow field overlooking the ocean to celebrate her union with her beloved, danced the night away in a 200 year old barn at the reception and brunched in the house my great grandmother bought in the 1940's hovering above the ocean.
The time was nothing short of dreamy and divine. Each moment more enchanting than the next. And the flowers, oh the flowers! Krishana Collins, the woman who grew, harvested and arranged the flowers is a wood sprite of the highest order. Knowledge of botanicals runs through her veins, and it seems that having her hands in the earth provides her the most profound sustenance. I dream of someday working under her tutelage, learning the names of various flowers, nurturing plants along their path to bloom and harvesting and arranging these naturally occurring works of art into transient sculptures. Oh I digress into romantic dreams. But the flowers, they were alluring. Krishana and her team at Tea Lane Farm conjured almost mystical arrangements that were strategically placed throughout the celebration space. The wedding party was adorned with an array of petals from flower crowns and boutonnieres to beautiful bouquets.
The day after the wedding as the sun sunk low in the sky, my mother, daughters and my sister's dearest friend, Kate, journeyed back to the site of the wedding. The land was rich with the energy of the day before and we wandered the fields toward dusk. But before we went wandering there was work to do, a gathering and dismantling of the remnants left behind. Clusters of tiny vases, silver and glass, porcelain and wood, were flocked outside the barn doors. We spent a good hour at play, disassembling arrangements and rearranging them in the grass, strewn over each others' bodies, tossed in the air to see where they fell. Somehow I cajoled one of my daughters into playing the role of an ethereal nymph, and Kate gamely obliged my request as well. I can't even begin to explain how powerful these remains of the day before were. They held a bewitching energy beyond any words I might share with you. I organized and repositioned, strategized on how to coax the right expression from the lovely creatures captivated amongst these petals and stamen. And some how the magic of these blooms seemed to vibrate and we were hooked. For days afterward I offered ice cream and adventures to my daughters and niece in exchange for their playing along and wandering into flower land with me. I think each of us found something to savor as we dreamed our way into a surreal world of botanics.