Saturday, April 30, 2011


I had a glimpse of the Royal Wedding cakes on television today.  They were as elegant and important looking as the occasion itself and I found myself recalling a different wedding cake every bit as elegant. When my daughter and son-in-law married, his mother graciously made their cake. It was beautiful in its simplicity. Three layers smoothly swathed in creamy white fondant. White orchids had been ordered and were to be added the morning of the wedding. Brides must delegate, and my daughter asked if I would do this final decorating.
I took my task seriously. Such an important cake for such a special day. I carefully clipped each flower from its supple green stem and placed it on a tier. I weighed their placement with my most critical eye. I shifted and tweaked and primped those flowers until that cake said, "wedded bliss."
Off I hastened to other prewedding tasks.
The wedding began in a swirl of satin and a rustle of grass.
Hands were clasped, eyes were gazed into deeply, vows were breathed.
There was laughter too of course, and food and photographers, and finally, the cake.
Ours was an outdoor wedding. The night before the big day had been so windy that the grand white tent we had rented needed to be pegged down a little more securely. The day of the wedding dawned clear and warm although breezy. A breeze in August is such a welcome thing especially to those wearing suits and ties.
I can still see my daughter and son-in-law, silhouettes against the billowing white net curtains surrounding the cake table.
But, the wind had blown the orchids out of their precise placement. Some were even scattered on the tablecloth. A cake decorated by the hand of the wind. A very "natural" look.
It was later that my daughter found me. "Oh Mom," she murmured. "I love what you did with the cake."

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