Ohhhhh Shiny!

You beautiful, shining orb...who are you? I've seen you lately, every night when I walk the dog, hanging like a beautiful, eye-watering jewel on a tree. I want to shout to the neighbors in the waning evening light: "Can you see it?! Is it a planet or a star or a UFO?" Then they'd really know I was crazy. It's not moving, so it must not be aliens, and it's not the North Star, because it's in the east. It must be Venus, that blazing, flashy diva. All of my childhood, I was unaware that you could see planets with the naked eye. I just assumed all the shiny objects in the sky were stars. My Daddy loved to watch the heavens with us kids on summer nights. We'd lie on the warm driveway and look for "shooting stars." I don't know what took me so long, but now I know that many of the big, gleaming things suspended in space are actually planets. This makes my inner child very excited. 

My favorite wedding decor that I have been involved in had to do with night skies. We decorated my nephew and his new bride's reception with a theme from the book "The Little Prince" (her favorite childhood tome). I had never read it, so it was a delight to be introduced to the story. It involved stars, planets, the moon, a little boy and a fox. With a bevy of helpers, we spangled the walls of the church fellowship hall with big golden stars and twinkle lights. The tables had magical jars filled with more stars and firelight, then we stacked old books and trinkets alongside. I bought various sizes of Japanese lanterns and painted them, transforming them into the planets and a (really big) moon. One of our nephews, Benjamin, built a whimsical trellis out of branches; I festooned it with tulle and lace and lights. There was a a fox sitting all sassy on the grand piano and a massive telescope beside it. Said nephew also dragged tall saplings out of the woods and pegged them onto stands, feathering even more lights up into the branches. We hung the planets all around the room in the trees. It was like a fairy garden, but better. The piece-de-resistance was the cake my niece, Hannah, made: a multi-tiered confection, with blue and white icing that she had poured and swirled down the sides. It looked for all the world like the Milky Way. The massive moon was smack-dab in the middle of the trellis, with the cake the crowning gem of the whole affair. It was winsome, fun and beautiful. After all was said and done, the party over and all the decorations taken down, someone happened to notice that no one bothered to take pictures. Eventually one photo surfaced, a blurry one with the bride and groom leaning over the cake. You have to wonder: if there were no pictures, did it really happen? The most banal of happenings get documented these days...people looking insanely excited at the outside of a restaurant in their selfies, when the truth is they seem pretty bored once the picture-taking is over. Maybe this was a good sign, everyone too busy having a great time - talking, laughing, eating, and enjoying each other -- to stop and take pictures. We can all remember it as a wonderfully special night, and our memories can get more embellished and sparkly over time, than what any pictures would have shown.

Busy days ahead, with us (the Carrollton Wind Ensemble) playing the Phantom, Thursday and Friday in Carrollton, then a creepy concert a few days later (I've got my pirate costume ready, aarrrrrrr!). We have a grandson coming over the weekend and then four more grands staying the next week while their parents head to the northeast for some much-deserved time alone and Fall color. I might better gird up my loins...