06/01/2026
When I arrived at Tin Poppy Retreaty, the affair had already begun.
This is a story about Ryan and Shannon. A couple who met right around covid, and amongst moves and around university studies, ended up here.
Ryan stood alone upon the north-facing platform, a sturdy figure cut against the vast sky, gazing down over the valley where the town of Enderby lay scattered like old stones. The wind moved through the pines with a low, steady voice. There he waited, shoulders tense, a man braced for battle.
Then came the soft crunch of footsteps. Shannon approached from behind and touched his shoulder.
He turned.
What a look passed over that man’s face! All the heavy anxiety of the morning shattered in a single instant. His eyes widened, raw and unguarded, as though he had been struck by lightning and found it beautiful. Before him stood Shannon in her white lace dress with its grand, sweeping sleeves. A short, nervous laugh broke from his throat, the sound of a man who suddenly remembers how to breathe.
There, with no one else near, they read their vows to one another. Ryan spoke first, his voice low and steady at the beginning, yet it cracked with honest feeling. Shannon’s eyes filled at once; by the second sentence the tears were already running freely down her cheeks. They finished, looked at each other for a long moment, and then a hug.
Later came the great ceremony upon the hillside, by the trees. The guests stood restless with joy, faces bright under the open sky. When the final words were spoken and husband and wife kissed, a passionate kiss that carried the weight of all their days ahead, the air exploded with thrown confetti. Ryan pulled Shannon close once more and kissed her again, deeper, as if the world itself could wait.
Afterward we wandered the hills and meadows like wanderers in an old tale. The light was kind to them. The land itself seemed to approve.
It was a good day. A true day.