The Charles Bridge in Prague
is better in the rain.
Florence is better in the rain,
Love is better in the rain
I attended a wedding this weekend in the hills of California's central wine region. The bride and I have adventured the world together and grown from hopeful creative artistic little girls to hopeful creative artistic women. As we grew we both tried on more formal hats only to discard them instead for flowers in our hair. There is a soulful poetry in her spirit and as I wound my way up the historic 101 highway past a dark and tumultuous pacific, I realized that there is no bride better suited to a rainy wedding than my friend.
Captured in a last minute tent on top of a winery's hill, we watched the wind whip gently back and forth across fields of pinot noir and her perfect white taffeta dress stayed pristine as she navigated a muddy landscape towards the aging barn's wooden doors. The rain misted the ceremony tent and as if in a greenhouse, we saw the blooming of a young love, gentle souls agreeing to support and care unconditionally for eternity.
The dark greys and blues of the sky cleared for a moment to rosé and champagne as the ceremony ended and the couple emerged into the evening's rays. We were all captured by their honest and almost innocent true love.
As we danced the night away in the hearth of a poppy and candle filled barn, we were warmed by the forced closeness due to the wet outside. It was then that the bride and I shared a smile, remembering all of our own travels knowing - some things are just better in the rain.