A Toast to Love

The wedding was—as most weddings are—magical. Big or small, in pandemic or in prosperity, it is the love that matters; not the location, or the guest list or—sorry Philip—even the beauty of the flowers. It is the love that shines thru and illuminates the day, that is both the beginning, and the end, of everything. Love is both magic and miracle.

And so it was that the tasks were accomplished, the flowers were arranged, the guests arrived. Pictures were taken, vows were exchanged, happy tears shed. We feasted, we toasted, we danced.

Florals by Philip

This wedding completes the Sume Family Trifecta. All three boys are now married to their Beloveds. All three have chosen amazing young women, all three have joined families that are warm and welcoming. I often say that it was not my place to choose their brides—but if it was? I couldn’t have done any better. As the mother of only sons, I have long waited for this last shot to have daughters. I’m feeling pretty pleased with myself for having such great women in my life; all without having had the expense of prom dresses and the trauma of my inability to create “princess hair.” Genius move, on my part.

I have a small suspicion that my boys might have made a friendly wager to see who could get me to shed the most tears during the festivities. Was the winner Cameron, when during each rehearsal walk down a long hillside to the wedding arbor, told me of all the things he adores about his Bride? He told me how long he had waited for this day, how happy he was that it had finally come, and how he looked forward to their future together.

Or was it Jordan, who recited a private toast in my ear? Recalling family moments and jokes, perfectly balancing laughter and tears, toasting my past and future role as “Mom.”

Maybe it was Devin, who undertook his best man duties with such serious joy, making sure that all went well for his twin. Devin who supported his wife Staci’s role of both bridesmaid, wedding coordinator, and mom of Baby Aiden. My heart rejoices to see such partnerships, and some of that can’t help but leak out my eyes.

As for myself—I did not make a toast at the wedding, but I offer one now. It is my favorite, all-purpose Sume Toast and I share it with you. “Here’s to the Love that began us, here’s to the Love between us, and here’s to the Love that multiplies us. Here’s to Love!”

Here's to Love!

Beth and Cameron

 

The Third Wedding Draws Ever Nigh, Third Son, Dahlia Edition

 Love in a time of Pandemic is even more precious. We are reminded of the terrible beauty of Life—that is oh-too-short, and that we should cherish the moments we are allotted. Trying to implement a wedding that has been in the works for over a year-- but now the details and the concerns change from week-to-week—has certainly been a lesson in priorities. Guest lists get slashed to the bone, plans for refreshments have new guidelines, and scented hand-sanitizer is the new fragrance du jour.

 

Through it all, there is—as it should be—love. And flowers. Because –at least in my opinion—once you have the happy couple and the dress, the other key ingredient is flowers.

 

We have the usual wedding flowers: roses, calla lilies, alstroemeria, in lovely sunset shades—but what we really need are Dahlias. Dahlias are prolific bloomers and come in every color imaginable. Because they peak in late summer, dahlias are perfect for a September wedding.

Sunset colors, perfect!

 

Unfortunately, I am not Dahlia friendly. I forget to dig them up in the fall and have killed more little beauties that way than I care to account for. I didn’t think to plant them this spring because we were at the then height of the pandemic and I was Oh, She of Little Faith.

Ooohhhh, pretty!

 

While not Dahlia Friendly, I am Dahlia Adjacent. When I went to Facebook, seeking dahlia growers, my FB friends reminded me that not only do we have two local companies growing flowers—shout out to Big Bottom Bouquets and Courageous Crow for their beautiful blooms—but my neighbor Joyce (hi Joyce!) who LIVES RIGHT DOWN THE ROAD FROM ME has a plethora of petals.

Perfection!

 

What can I say? I’m often very “pretty.” But, thanks to my FB friends’ reminders, I contacted Joyce. She very graciously offered to give me a garden tour. She is growing lots of varieties that will be perfect for the latest Sume Wedding, but my favorite—not at all in the color pallet-- was a dahlia Joyce introduced me to.

 

Meet “Elk Lips on Fire":

Elk Lips on Fires. Seriously. That is the name.

 

 Joyce said she bought it for the name, because the name is irresistible and she just had to see it in person. Which, as a fellow flower addict, I recognize a good justification when I hear one. We both had a laugh at the name, and I wondered at the backstory behind the moniker. For once, Google failed to illuminate me, but my imagination believes there was some sort of retaliation story in the naming. Probably involving pepper spray.

 

That’s my belief, I’m sticking to it. Bring on the dahlias!

Yes, to the Dress: MOG Edition

    Shopping for wedding dresses is a lot of fun. At least it is as the Mother of the Groom. My job is to sip champagne and admire the beauty of my son’s Beloved.

     This is not a hard job, because champagne is delightful and all my sons’ beloveds are as well. I would just like to point out here that if I had mis-punctuated the following plural possessive---instead of being inclusive of all of my daughters-in-law, I would have been leading you to believe that you were about to get a heads-up on the next season of The Bachelor Meets The Real Housewives of the ELC, Super Hair-Pulling Edition. Thankfully, this is not the case. Punctuation is important. Please use it responsibly.

    Mother-of-the-Groom (MOG) is a mostly ceremonial position. MOG advice on the internet usually boils down to “wear beige and keep your mouth shut.” That is excellent advice, probably, but I usually wear blue and make jokes. So far, it’s worked out for me. Perhaps because my sons have done such a lovely job of picking women of grace and tolerance, perhaps because my jokes are really funny. It’s likely both.

    Shopping for my MOG dress is fun but includes less bubbly. I’m not sure why this is so. I will ask the MOBs if this has also been their experience. Perhaps we will start a petition to get this to change.

   As MOG, my negotiated contribution to the wedding of the happy couple is to provide both the florals and the very talented—and highly susceptible to blackmail—floral designer. All I’m going to say about that is there was a very good reason why I keep all those notes back in high school. So far, they’ve saved me about $6k. Minus the fireproof safety deposit box fee, of course.

     I also provide the libations on the Happy Occasion, so I feel that I have contributed to the happiness of all. That fact that I can also add to the contents of my safety deposit box is purely serendipitous, I assure you.

Please enjoy these gratuitous wedding pictures
Circa 1986 Sue & Shane

Mother of Dragons

I am the mother of boys.

I have very little experience with girls—other than my own distant memory as a girl of being told to pull up my knee socks and to comb my hair. SPOILER ALERT—as an adult I solved those two problems by no longer wearing knee socks and... come to think of it, I still need to comb my hair, but that is not my point.

My point is that put in my time in the Boy Trenches of parenthood—where prom dresses and princess hair weren’t really a thing we did. We did lots of mud and motorbikes and rolling around on the ground. Eventually, my boys have all grown up to be men, realized that girls don’t actually have cooties and have fallen in love.

 I really enjoying having these girls—women-- in my life. And while we don’t go prom dress shopping together—apparently there aren’t a lot of Adult Proms—they have each graciously invited me to go bridal gown shopping.

Bridal gown shopping is THE BEST SHOPPING. And I’m not just saying that because of the mimosas. Although mimosas are delightful, I’m not gonna lie. Bridal gown shopping always entails brunch and the entire reason for brunch is not to have a mix of breakfast and lunch foods as I once believed, but to have a boozy breakfast/lunch with out the “is it five o’clock somewhere” guilts. Add a wee splash of juice to champagne, call the meal “brunch,” and celebrate at will. Being a girl is awesome! Who knew?

After brunch we head to the first of two bridal shops—always conveniently located within walking distance. So consistently convenient that I wonder-- which came first, the bridal shop or the brunch spot? “Gee, I’d really like to open a Bridal Boutique on this block but there are no brunch places nearby. Sad.”

Without fail, we never find The Dress at the first shop. It is entirely possible that we are only at this first shop to kill time while we sober up before driving to the next shop where we will find The Dress of her Dreams.

There is Love

The Wedding---oh, the wedding! T’was beautiful, all of it: the bride, the groom, the dress, the flowers, the cake, and especially the friends and family that came to share it all with us. And---special bonus feature of the venue we used—NO ELK. Anywhere.

Weddings are a beautiful time, just in general. A gathering of beloved people, coming together to celebrate Love and Life and Ever After. I look around at all the faces that smile back at me, noting the faces of those whose wedding I attended not that long ago, those who have now been married months, a year, two years, eight years, longer. I see brand new babies, still with that “new baby smell” as Shane would say, “That’s a fresh one.” There are toddlers and kids and a Mona Lisa smile that tells me more love will soon be made tangible in this world and my heart is so full it leaks out of my eyes.

We celebrate in all the usual ways, with ceremony and dancing, with food and drink and-- in addition to cake--- there are lemon tarts that the mother of the Bride made with such love they melt in your mouth.

At dusk the lights hung in the orchard trees wink on and the candles in the floral centerpieces are lit and all is magic. I know that work is Love, made visible. I know the love that went into the planning, and the creation of all of this, how a village of loved ones came together to make this happen.

Late in the evening, I take a moment to myself, under the stars, my face lifted to the heavens, not quite in prayer, not quite NOT; not really weeping although there are some tears. I am somewhere in between, standing under the sheltering sky, broken open.  Open, but not empty, my heart says what words cannot. And I stay there, until I can again dance.

There is a time, near the end, where my son wraps his arms around me in thanks, and in that moment, begins to weep. Other arms wrap around us, another son, then the third. Then the Bride and the other Beloveds, all of us Sumes, bereft of our Origin, we weep.

I am thankful for these tears; thankful my son can weep openly. His friends make a receiving line of open arms for him and they hold him fiercely. And long. And one after the other, until his tears are exhausted.

We weep as we rejoice, we weep as we mourn. We weep as we heal, and eventually, we dance.

The Wedding Draws Ever Nigh, Second Son Edition

You might have noticed that I’m very mellow regarding the upcoming nuptials of my Second Son and his Beloved. Not my first rodeo, true, but that’s not the reason. The reason I’m so calm is that the event is NOT being held in my backyard this time. Although, it’s not like I don’t have PLENTY of room for the 200+ guests---especially since the elk have come in and clear-cut my flowers!

I’m not even kidding.

My flowers? Are. GONE.

Missed one.

Last week I met with the “Wildlife Conflict Specialist” and showed her the damage the elk had been doing to my gardens DESPITE the Stinky Spray and the motion triggered sprinklers. She was suitably distressed on my behalf---which was comforting---but had little to offer in the way of conflict resolution. Perhaps, in the spring, some assistance in fence construction advice?

SIGH

Apparently “KILL ALL THE ELK” was not the State’s idea of resolution. I admit that, perhaps, I was comforting myself with thoughts of retribution, but it seems to me that zero elk would equal zero problems.

I mean, except for slugs. And moles. And too much or too little rain. And renegade chickens. And hail or a plague of locusts, or----well. Anyway. I suppose it’s always something.

So, that is the state of my garden: clear cut. The good news is that Costco carries TONS of flowers and has zero elk problems---I should probably ask them their secret.

I’m looking forward to spending the next couple of days, surrounded by gorgeous flowers, loyal friends with helping hands and lots of talent. There will be love and laughter, and on Saturday we will all celebrate Happily Ever After with nary an elk in sight.

Mountains and Moles #2

Moles are not a new pest in the Sume back yard. We’ve had them forever and tussled with them on and off over the years. Sometimes, if the cats and dogs in residence at the Sume Casa are not particularly gifted---or down right lazy—in mole catching, Shane had been known to set up a sniper position in a lawn chair next to a mole hill, just daring the fuzzy little vermin to move some dirt.

We’ve tried traps, chewing gum---seriously, chewing gum. The internet suggested putting Wrigley’s Spearmint chewing gum in the mole hills to drive moles away. Supposedly they hate spearmint chewing gum---Moles must be big fans of Juicy Fruit? ---and will immediately vacate the area. Right. Didn’t happen. Or maybe we were supposed to chew the gum first? Right. Tried it. Enjoyed the gum. Apparently so did the moles. In the end, I decided it was just a clever marketing ploy on the part of the fine people at the Wrigley gum factory to boost Spearmint gum sales because it seemed to have no noticeable effect on the mole vacancy rates.

Just in case there was something to the whole spearmint thing, I tried poking fresh spearmint from my gardens down the mole hills. Use caution if you try this approach, you might just end up accidentally rooting spearmint plants all over your lawn. Just sayin’.

And---in case the moles were enjoying their spearmint room freshener---I decided to go in a different direction. Cleaning the yard of dog droppings one day, I was inspired to poke the offal into the nearest mole hill--HA!! Take that, moles! Also, have this half-eaten birds and these three old gum wrappers!! I’ll admit I got a wee bit carried away trying to stuff mole offending items into the ground and stopping around muttering to myself.

Alas, all of these methods, while highly entertaining to my neighbors, lacked any efficacy as a mole deterrent. If anything, the mole seem encouraged by the attention and felt at home enough to crash the wedding...CENTER ASILE