Oh, did I say a spring wedding? Because I meant a spring wedding in the north country. Which, as most of you know, could be accompanied by lovely, bucolic*, spring-like weather, or a freaking hurricane. *Can you use bucolic to describe weather? I love this word. I'm using it.
My whole family got together last weekend to attend the wedding of a good friend on the St. Lawrence River, complete with a cocktail cruise through the islands, which sounded charming and romantic on the invitation I received weeks ago. It conjured up visions of guests in stylish sun hats and seersucker, not mismatchy umbrellas and garish gore-tex. Take a look at my mom as she is whisked away by the wind, her husband and sheer vanity to get out of the gusty wind and hail.
Ominous view from the boat. Yikes! The word "foreboding" comes to mind.
Mom caught in the storm! Not pleased. But still looking cute.
What did we ever do before pashminas?
Dave to the rescue! Note the angry willow in the background.
It's not just weeping, it's sobbing.
See mom run. Run, mom, run!
Shel finds shelter!