(and my brother got married)

I was very pleased the day, a few weeks before his wedding, that my brother called and asked me to take pictures at his wedding. I love photography and my family, and happily agreed.

The day, a lovely spring one, came and we attended the ceremony at a picturesque little old church in the Feliciana hill country, with a few of the bride’s and groom’s family and closest friends. It could not have been any better.

I was taking a few photos of the celebrants enjoying a post-ceremony meal when Medium walked through the door with purpose. “Big,” she said, “come here. This is urgent.” I walked outside to find that Tiny, almost 6 years old, had climbed a rather steep hill and was unwilling or unable to come down.

Since we had arrived a couple hours earlier, it was clear that Tiny was very interested in the hill, noting that it was higher than the church and inquiring as to just how high I believed it to be.  As soon as he got the chance, he shot up it with no plan to get down.

Climbing it in dress shoes proved no easy obstacle, and the understory was a bit prickly, but I reached him with only a little trouble. He was about three quarters of the way up the ridge and just above the roofline of the church.

“Let’s climb to the top,” he said. So we did. I held his hand and walked the rest of the way to the top of the ridge.

A bit of internet research tells me that the church sits on a little plain about 60 feet above sea level, and the crest of the hill stands 80 feet or more above its relatively flat surroundings – an impressive eminence in Louisiana. But the ridge we explored nearest the church – Tiny in his pink bowtie and the loudest Bermuda shorts ever, me in my shirt sleeves and slacks – thrusts bravely up from the earth’s crust to a majestic 90 feet above sea level.  We had climbed 30 feet.

The view was a beautiful one; an upland hardwood forest in early spring is a pretty thing to see. We spent a minute or so, my favorite little guy and me, looking down at the happy event from our perch. Then I picked him up and walked carefully down – only grabbing a nearby trunk for support on the steepest bits – hugging him tightly the whole way.