The field had been mowed and the fragrant hay was rolled up into huge circular bales, wrapped in white plastic, and stacked out of the way. The gate to the field was open with several acres for cars to park. In one corner there was a barbeque going full force and there were tables laden with food and coolers full of wine and soft drinks and water. The day was sunny and bright and many guests choose to relax in the white tent that had been rented for the event.

It was an island wedding, with guests from afar and just down the road. A home-grown island girl and the guy she met at college were getting the royal send-off. But first, the energetic band was going to play the music that seemed to suit all the generations present: Rock and Roll. Little girls in pretty dresses flounced around in their filmy skirts and boys in cowboy hats jumped up and down to the beat on the wood floor that had been put together for the day.

It felt like the old island, when people came together and knew just about everyone because there were so few people residing here. The Gigantic Garry Oak trees that the first farmer had left in this field stood over it all. This family farm had been owned by several generations of the same family The beautiful bride in her ivory satin gown had been married there under the trees in the exact same spot as her parents were wed. I thought how proud her grandparents would have been of her on this day. Everything seemed to have come full circle.