June 1, 2002 was the day I got married. It was certainly the best day of my life. The weather was perfect, everyone was relaxed, we were entirely there.
It was a beautiful thing to stand up and experience the love with all the friends and family there to witness and support us. And it was also fun.
Afterwards, after a lot of picture taking, we had a party in a glass house on top of a high building. The food was excellent and the band looped a thread from gypsy jazz to bluegrass while people danced.
Elsewhere, each space had its own conversants and conversations, and there was a well-measured bit of social Brownian motion. For me it was a bit of a blur, a pleasant blur of conversations and small and large moments.
Toasts were made and cake cut; all were merry as the sun set through many walls over different floors. Rare delicacies were enjoyed, people grew sleepy or full or both and some retired.
The band moved to the top floor, a greenhouse with a glass floor over a small pond (from where the only lights dimly and wavily shone up through the glass to illuminate the bottom of the bass and bits of other instruments) and the audience sang along. It was really something, and certainly the best party I've ever been too. [More pictures later.]
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Soon after, we drove north and then east, to the Rockies ...
... and then south and west, through the Kootenays ...
... and west, decending into the big valleys:
A few hours from home, we saw our fourth bear of the trip.
And I love Caterina Fake. My wife. (!)