For the Love Of England

My always glamorous and witty friend Miss Pickering needs details. She's a florist and specializes in weddings. So the very idea that I married thrice (can you say that?) is statistically overwhelming for her. 3 dresses. 3 bouquets, 3 times?

I could write her an email and spell it out there, but why be shy now? So here's the scoop.

#1 A September wedding in a field, only family and two best friends in attendance. I wore tall oxblood leather boots with a french blue flannel skirt and an embroidered peasant blouse. My bouquet was a nosegay of leaves and berries. Shortly after a delicious lunch with a cake baked by a neighbor the groom and I hopped in a car and drove across the country to Arizona. This scenario led to the bread baking and goat owning. ( brunette)

#2 A summer wedding in Holy Trinity Church in Georgetown. I wore a shirred columnar dress in apricot, my Mother made my bouquet of cream and peachy roses with garden flowers. Many friends and family in attendance. A fantastic reception at a very upmarket Indian restaurant also in Georgetown owned by a friend of the best man. Same best man was later husband #2's divorce lawyer. ( red head)

#3 We were wed by a justice of the peace in Easton, Maryland. Sunshine, the Chesapeake Bay and 2 men in handcuffs spotted out a window as we said our vows attended. I wore a white sundress. Friends drove to the bay to dine with us under the trees that evening. Another florist friend brought me a belated wedding bouquet of white peonies and roses. We laughed and ate and drank and sat out in the moonlight for hours. Later I hung the bouquet upside down and dried the flowers. It kept for many years. ( blonde)

So there it is , the clothes, the flowers, the hair colors ( all my hair colors BTW). Only the names have been withheld to protect the innocent. Now can we go back to reading about what I'm cooking or is there some other burning desire I need to address?

Love to all and to all a goodnight.