- Claire Stuyck
- May 21, 2019
I ventured to South Carolina to celebrate the creation of a new family. The heat and humidity were familiar, and the beauty of the festivities was present in everything: in the bouquet, the people, and the Chuck-wills-widow that called in the warm lingering night. That thing granting all this beauty was born, and with luck and hard work will abide with love.

As made of honor I shared a few words from Wendell Berry with the happy couple:
"Horseback on Sunday morning, harvest over, we taste persimmon and wild grape, sharp sweet of summer's end. In time's maze over fall fields, we name names that went west from here, names that rest on graves. We open a persimmon seed to find the tree that stands in promise, pale, in the seed's marrow. Geese appear high over us, pass, and the sky closes. Abandon, as in love or sleep, holds them to their way, clear, in the ancient faith: what we need is here. And we pray, not for new earth or heaven, but to be quiet in heart, and in eye clear. What we need is here."
From 'The Country of Marriage', selected poems by Wendell Berry