Kasey & Derek

A Yorkie in a tiny crate had a front-row seat to the morning. Kasey held the little dog in her white lace robe while her bridesmaids piled onto the bed in matching sage floral robes, and one of them knelt on the floor to buckle her heels. Derek's side was all texture: a tan vest, cufflinks stamped with their initials, cognac loafers laid out next to a small black vow book. His groomsmen wore the same sand-colored suits and couldn't stop laughing at something across the room.

The Vyne at Whittemore has a stream that tumbles over boulders right along the clubhouse, and that's where they saw each other first, standing on the flat stone beside a little waterfall. After a long hug, the whole wedding party lined up on the lawn in front of the gray shingled building with its white cupola, bridesmaids in sage satin throwing their bouquets in the air while the groomsmen pointed and cheered. It was the loudest photo of the day.

Bridesmaids came down the curving stone staircase one by one, and Kasey followed on the garden path with an older man in a charcoal suit, her long veil trailing. Derek was grinning before she even reached him. White chairs filled the lawn under strings of bulbs, and their kiss landed right between the rows. Inside, flower hoops hung over a room of wood floors and pale walls. Later, out by the stone wall, a gust took her cathedral veil and wrapped it all the way around them.