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Happy omen

weaselpoop

Until recently, the CoE would only consent to marry couples in their local church (or one of their local churches, if the two were from different parishes). So most of the people who lived in Badger House over the last four hundred years would certainly have been married in the ancient church around the corner. That’s why we were so dead-set on doing the same, despite — to put it mildly — not being church-going mustelids.

But services are held in a nearby parish in Winter, on account of our church has no electricity and the lane leading to it is muddy and impassible much of the time. We took a real risk picking February. The 14th was the earliest the vicar would consent to open the building (heh. And you thought one of us was an incurable romantic).

February in England is…iffy. It can be startling warm and sunny. It can be an absolute asshole. Predictions can change by the hour. I’ve been holding my breath for months.

This Saturday was…improbably gorgeous. Sunny, warm, high puffy clouds. Okay, yes, we had to walk to the church from the main road and our vows whuffed out in little puffs of holy vapor, but I got feeling back in my toes again after a couple of drinks and an hour or so in front of the fire.

Everything, from beginning to end, was…absolutely perfect.

Well, holy shit.

I’m taking a week off blogging. I gather I’m supposed to moon people or something. I think there’s honey involved. Thanks so much for the happy thoughts, everyone — y’all have been too kind. And all your good wishes came true, so you can start thinking about lottery numbers next, ‘k?

Oh, the picture? That, my friends, is weasel shit. Stoat plop, to be more precise. You can tell because it’s tiny and it’s wearing an ickle fur coat, courtesy of the more indigestible bits of its victims. The day was so lovely Saturday morning, I decided to walk into town for my hair ‘n’ stuff, and found this token of esteem lying right in my path.

So my family made it after all.

sock it to me

February 16, 2009 — 8:23 pm
Comments: 54