Spring weddings. Like daffodils, there are lots of them this year. With colour and beauty and, here in Auckland, unreliable weather.

There was a bride, as some brides are, who was focused on the details. All and every. Weddings have lots of details.

You would have thought she could have delegated her concerns to the wedding planner. Yes, they had a wedding planner, and every bell and whistle you could imagine. Including runsheets. And rehearsals. Yes, more than one rehearsal. Precision in every way for the perfect day.

Except for the unreliable weather.

It was, you see, an outdoor wedding. Well sort of. The feasting was to be inside. And inside, being a mansion, had an alternate wet weather location. What they called the lounge.  Which was about the size of my house.

But the lounge curtains, long and curvaceous, were wrong. I think it was the colour. And, not surprisingly, the venue manager wasn’t going to remove them.  

So it was to be outside. With upmarket, uniform umbrellas provided.

By now you are probably getting a sense of this wedding. Lots of high fashion and heels. Lots of photographers and movie-makers. Lots of cost. And, above all, lots of organisation.

Except the unreliable weather, which is obstinately difficult to organise.

At the appointed hour we assembled. The Master of Ceremonies gave a briefing. The guests were handed petals to throw when cued. All was set. The Minister was introduced and I was given the microphone.

Well, at that moment, the heavens opened. There was no dove descending, just rain. Lots of it.

The umbrellas opened their wings. The orchestra struck up. The bride and dad walked gingerly along a covered walkway, with paparazzi swarming. She had a huge smile on her face and so did Dad.

Our eyes met. At which point, I gained a new appreciation of her. Nothing was going to wreck her day. Not wind, nor rain, nor soggy photos. She was in love and wanted the world to know.

They came to the end of the covered walkway. To advance to where the groom and I awaited were two obstacles. One, as mentioned, was the rain. So, a decision, to umbrella or not to umbrella. And, two, there was the lake.

Yes, someone in the construction design team of those who construct and design mansions hadn’t done their drainage homework. When the heavens opened a lake was formed. Not very deep mind you, it only came about half way up my shoe. But then I didn’t have a gorgeous, two-metre train behind me.

Again the bride surprised me. Without missing a beat, widening her smile, she walked straight into that lake, all the way to the groom, with the fashion house bridal gown and train floating behind. As the ‘80s Starship song says, ‘Nothing is gonna to stop us now!”

Afterwards, when I was driving home, I thought that tenacity is what made that wedding.  All the planning in the world, all the dollars in the world, couldn’t prevent a soggy dress and photos of soggy dresses. But when it came down to it, that didn’t matter. She was going to cross her lake to the love of her life come what may. Her smile, her joy, was going to conquer it all. And it did.

That tenacious joy then coloured the vows, the rest of the ceremony, and the festivities that followed. I pray it continues to colour their lives in the best of ways.

Glynn

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