Four months ahead we set the date, and as it approached we reassured each other– “It won’t rain. It can’t rain. We’ll have perfect fall weather.”
As the day dawned clouds lay low and heavy and I repeated my mantra “It won’t rain. It can’t rain.”; but the moment I stepped out of my car at Thanksgiving Point (photographers’ paradise) rain rushed down in massive blurred curtains.
And so we drove north, north, north– but the storm chased us, giant oaks whipped their branches, rivers flowed down the streets and raindrops speckled the pond. Still, we were optimistic and patient. Leah changed into her dress in a kind stranger’s home and we hid under the cupola until the storm eased.
I hardly think we could have planned it better.