I must confess my heart went out to last Saturday's bride who desperately wanted to be married outdoors. She lives in Colorado in the mountains, so home was her first choice. California or the family beach house in Rehoboth, Delaware were runners up. But her mother is handicapped and wasn't going to be climbing any mountain or fording any stream. A private club in Chevy Chase, Maryland was the venue. Period.
At least there was a chance of fresh air and blue skies when the plans were made for the rooftop terrace, but temps in the 115 heat index range made outside an impossibility.
So inside it was. Dark carved dining room chairs filled the ballroom. Heavy swags of fabric ballooned above the windows, and ficus trees with fairy lights stood in for the stars, kind of.
We did our best to lighten it up. Piles of hydrangea, cylinders filled with sand and shells or moss and pine cones gathered from her beloved mountains adorned the mantles.
The tables had simple centers of hydrangea and green and white tree ivy.
They had brought a sackful of rocks from home that were scattered about the tables.
We placed urns and vases full of branches and tree ivy and flowers about, made it as bright and summery as possible but....
We couldn't give her fresh air or sunshine or her heart's desires.
And chandeliers, no matter how many or how bright, are not the milky way.
Not even close.
Unsolicited advice to the bride and groom from your florist:
Go forth into the world together, forsaking all air conditioning (except when visiting the east coast), kick off your shoes, tear off your tie, let down your hair and don't look back.