Q. What kind of bride drags her new husband to a botanical garden while on their honeymoon?
A. A gardener, of course. (I also would have accepted “a sensible one”.)
That’s right, I’m married! As of August 27, Ben advanced from “boyfriend” (or sometimes, if I was feeling mature, “partner”) to husband. The wedding day was absolutely glorious; the ceremony was perfect, the night magical… I wish it had lasted much, much longer. But alas, ’tis over. And I’m back to blogging on a much more regular basis. But for tonight I’ll just leave you with a few more wedding photos, should you care to indulge me.
At the risk of being ridiculed for excessive corniness, one of my favourite moments was during the ceremony under the chuppah (a Jewish wedding tradition, the chuppah canopy represents the home a bride and groom will build together). The sunlight was filtering through the canopy – sewn by a friend out of dozens of antique lace hankies – and Ben and I just felt like we were basking in each other’s love.
Speaking of love… I love this man!
And a token nod to the gardeners who are thinking, “Yes, but what about the flowers, woman?”: Annabelle hydrangeas from my mother’s garden fill the stone fountain. As for my bouquet, beyond the lilies I couldn’t tell you. I’m terrible with cut flower names. Am I the only gardener who shares that affliction?
Tomorrow: Tofino Botanical Gardens.