Beech Tree News Network

One day, while I was washing bottles in the kitchen, my granddaughter, Sabria, was—unbeknownst to me—climbing into a chair in the dining room in order to take down the curtains from the one window in the room.  It is a short window, decked out in café sized curtains, embellished with Beauxbaton lace.
    When I next saw her, she had wrapped one curtain around her body, where it was secured with a clothespin.  The other panel was draped over her head.
    “I’m getting married today, Gee,” she announced.   
    “Well, I need to get your picture,” I said.
    “Ok, I need to stand next to my red Christmas tree,” she said, as she headed toward the room that is now the permanent resting place for the disheveled little tree.  (We’ve figured out that it’s easier to leave it up than to deal with the melt-down that follows the mere suggestion of taking it down.)
    The picture turned out beautifully.  Sabria is a glowing bride.
    I remember doing that as a child—dressing up as a bride, I mean.  My younger sisters and I made wedding attire from whatever was tossed aside by my older sisters.  We put tights on our heads—the legs and feet were our long, flowing hair.  It didn’t really matter what material the wedding dress was made from, but it had to touch the floor.  We might have a plaid dress matched with a striped shirt tied around our waists for a train and a nylon slip as a veil. 
    My daughter, Natalie, played wedding a lot as a child.  I made a wedding dress for her, complete with train and veil, one year for a Halloween costume.  I offered to make one for my younger daughter, Nikki, but she insisted on a plastic Donald Duck costume from Walmart.  The pictures of the two of them together appear to be some really short woman marrying Donald Duck.
    My friend, Landon’s, wedding was Saturday night at Lost River Cave in Bowling Green.  It was a beautiful affair.  The ceremony was held outdoors among the trees by the river, the reception at the mouth of the cave.  The foliage above the entrance and at the edges gave it a grotto feel.  The sound of the water flowing over the rocks and into the old cave mill had a soothing effect.  The rafters overhead were draped in luminous gossamer that wafted to the floor.  A magnificent chandelier hung over the dance floor, and ambient light beamed from crevices in the rock to set the whole area aglow.  It was possibly the most beautiful setting I’ve seen for a wedding.
    Landon’s bride, Andrea, was stunning.  As I watched the two of them on the dance floor, I wondered how many times, as a child, she had dressed up as a bride.  Had she taken down her mother’s dining room curtains?  Had she worn tights on her head?  Probably not, each bride has her own style.  Whatever the style, she, like many brides before her, and many more to come, have been rehearsing for this event their entire lives.  It was no accident that everything appeared to be perfect.
    I hope I’m around for Sabria’s wedding.  Given her flare for the dramatic, it should be a grandiose affair, with lots of lace, taffeta and roses.  And a red Christmas tree.  We can’t forget that.