Even harvest flies gathered to see the wedding. It was balmy and picturesque the way a country wedding should be. There were candles and a setting sun that cast a orange glow over everything, and the temperature was just high enough to allow the bride to wear a strapless gown; revealing, but classy.
She was beautiful and he was handsome, but the couple gave off an air of too much obviousness. It was overtly presumed about the town that they would eventually wed, their compatibility was built on many similarities and mutually held ideals. They were both pleasant to behold and of a temperate nature; the only disagreement on public record was a heated discussion overheard at Lover’s Point when they were still in highschool.
It was also well known that despite these frequent trips to Lover’s Point, the pair had managed to maintain their innocence until the completion of their nuptials; it was also known that it was not at all too invading or prying that the entire township knew of such personal and intimate details.
The two kissed as harvest flies flitted about their heads and the sea of oversized hats swayed as one with the dabbing of numerous eyes with numerous handkercheifs; the majority of which belonged to neither relation or close friend. It was typical of these old southern woman, to regard the youngsters as substitutes for the absent children that used to fill their now empty, and unfulfilled lives. The couple knew their romance had whiled away many gossip-filled hours with the local knitting circle, and they had therefore been only delighted, to invite each and evey one of of them, hats and all, to witness their marriage.