She was Cinderella, riding side saddle, behind her two most handsome nephews, gentlemen perched atop their own strong horses. Her toes dangled and her veil swayed with the horse's gait. They rounded the corner and the people who loved them most were already on their feet.
The Italian ceremony was long, so bride and groom sat in chairs as their most beloved friends and family spoke, prayed, sung and recited. The children's choir was especially sweet, but the groom may have been most moved when the bride surprised him with her own solo. A translator leaned forward in her chair, her Southern Italian waves brushing the shoulders of the Americans in front of her, her Southern Italian accent brushing their ears.
I ran around in the grass, sidestepping the zanzare as they bit my bare legs. Great candids are easier to come by with four photographers. Let's hope this works...
With little fanfare the bride and groom were ushered to Grazano Visconti, a medieval village, to be their own Romeo and Juliet. Poses atop stairs and behind ivy, stealing kisses with the intent to be caught by a point and click. The guests were glad we weren't gone long because the first course was elegant cold cut rosettes and savory pastries, as decadent as the wedding cake itself. This was followed by the most delicious pasta dressed as candy: ricotta pillows in striped noodles, twisted at each end.
The wine must have cost more than my own wedding dress, it was that delicious, and the meat, I'm told, was to die for. The spumoni cleared our palettes and our minds, ready for more. It was now around 5:00 and we had been celebrating since 9:30 am. But when the torta came, we could have stayed all night long. Espresso send us home heady and teary eyed; excited at a new start, overwhelmed with love, and ready for our beds.
It was a magical day to be sure.
I could do it all over again tomorrow.
All 10 hours of it.
Ahhh, amore. Auguri, Paola e Antonio.