St. Mary’s Church - current home of the Indian River Festival. Conceived of and planned by hand and paper. Harvested and constructed by hand and tool. I can’t walk inside these structures without reflecting on their back story - the amount of work tied to each beam, each post, each plank, each moulding and each carving. Fir, pine, spruce, maple and birch are represented, all sourced from the immediate area. Heart and soul poured into every square inch - an inherent warmth as the end result. To build a structure such as this is one thing. To maintain it? Something else. Much like a relationship. Much like these two. Much like the family and friends who support them and came to fill this space with their laughter, joy and a warmth of their own.

As simple as this. That’s what a wedding photo can be. It’s why I do what I do. Why I absolutely love what I do. It’s not posed. It isn’t a careful arrangement of accessories. I won’t pretend that the technical details behind the image matter. They don’t. Truth be told, I was utterly disappointed with the image at first as I’d left the feet out. I was looking for a sense of movement and I’d completely botched it. But then I had a second look. And a third. The more I came back to it the more I liked it. It’s now become one of my favourite images as it encompasses a lot of what I’m trying to achieve as a wedding photographer. It’s a simple photo of a hand, captured on a whim. It wasn’t captured for an inspiration board. It wasn’t captured for a portfolio. It was captured to be part of a greater narrative. But why capture it? What does it offer? Quite simply, it’s the left hand of the groom (the ring hand nonetheless!) as he walked along a country lane towards the ceremony. The way it’s carried, the farm earned cuts, scuffs, bruises and stains that won’t wash out help detail who he is. It helps fill in the narrative we create with our images. And for the individual in the photo? I hope it helps them remember the moments leading up to the ceremony. The walk along that lane. The bubble wrap they held in their right hand to destress. The crunching sound of gravel under foot or the warmth of that August sun. I hope it helps them remember how that cut came to be. Where that bruise was earned. I hope it helps them remember what that lane led them to and the happiness it brought them. That’s the magic of a photo. Especially the fleeting ones. Keep snapping, friends. And don’t forget to give some of your captures a second chance.