A Wedding in the Gold Country



Carling and Scott

 It was magical. Three miles outside of the tiny town of  Mountain Ranch, about a half hour from where we stayed in Angel's Camp.  The high heels were left in the car, flats substituted, when I saw the downhill trek we'd make to get to where the wedding was held.  No matter.  One of the bridesmaids wore flipflops after the ceremony.

A generous clearing encircled by oaks and Ponderosa pine,  the moon rising,  dragonflies circling,  a slow-moving creek, and a laidback, loving crowd.  Carling, the bride, told me later that there were about 20 doctors present, med school classmates from New York, but you couldn't pick them out.  Scott  was tie-less, the groomsmen  jacket-less and  wearing suspenders.  Strings of lights crisscrossed the meadow.

Most of the 80 or so guests were under 30, but they were friendly, interesting, and interested. 

The ceremony was brief,  no obeying but "as long as we both shall live."  A blue grass band played during the cocktail hour (four kegs of home-brewed beer from a Berkeley friend,  plus wine and  the usual drinks).  There were two very long tables, about 20 people to a side and a vegan buffet  presided over by a caterer in a cowboy hat.  For dessert, a pie buffet. ( Jerry's favorite kind of wedding: a short ceremony,  no ties, and plenty of pie.)  Lots of funny, articulate toasts with tiny cups of champagne.

The sun went down, someone flipped the switch, and the lights came on.  You could just make out dragonflies circling over the tables. No mosquitoes. We stayed for the first dance, and then slipped away about 8 pm, as other older people did.   The young woman who sat next to me, a snow-boarder and mechanical engineer, said that at midnight  hotdogs were going to be served.


Wedding party in a joyful scrum after the ceremony

Cups for beer and punch

One of two long tables set for dinner




And there were more pies to come...

Bride and bridesmaids' bouquets









A centerpiece