David and Cari

They got married on the beach in the middle of crazy storm and torrential downpour. It was perfect. they read this poem:

We Two, How Long We Were Fool'd
by Walt Whitman
(1819-1892)

We two, how long we were fool'd,
Now transmuted, we swiftly escape as Nature escapes,
We are Nature, long have we been absent, but now we return,
We become plants, trunks, foliage, roots, bark,
We are bedded in the ground, we are rocks,
We are oaks, we grow in the openings side by side,
We browse, we are two among the wild herds spontaneous as any,
We are two fishes swimming in the sea together,
We are what locust blossoms are, we drop scent around lanes mornings
and evenings,
We are also the coarse smut of beasts, vegetables, minerals,
We are two predatory hawks, we soar above and look down,
We are two resplendent suns, we it is who balance ourselves orbic
and stellar, we are as two comets,
We prowl fang'd and four-footed in the woods, we spring on prey,
We are two clouds forenoons and afternoons driving overhead,
We are seas mingling, we are two of those cheerful waves rolling
over each other and interwetting each other,
We are what the atmosphere is, transparent, receptive, pervious, impervious,
We are snow, rain, cold, darkness, we are each product and influence
of the globe,
We have circled and circled till we have arrived home again, we two,
We have voided all but freedom and all but our own joy.

Wedding serenade

What could be better than having a a fiddler sing you a haunting melody to usher you off to your conjugal bed.

Thoughts on breakfast and the Big Sky

Written for our wedding website, which will expire soon.

In the fall of 1999 I loaded all my worldly possessions into the back of my red Mazda pickup, loaded my dog Luna into the front seat, and said goodbye to South Carolina. I headed west, away from the kudzu covered porches, afternoons lolling in the river, lightning bugs, friends with slow accents, and river I had grown to know intimately. Friends told me that I would be dumbstruck when I saw the mountains of Montana, that I might wander around for a while unable to utter more than “It’s so beautiful.” This was true, those giant valleys floored me. I couldn’t get over the way the clouds outlined themselves against the sky, and the way the peaks loomed everpresent in the distance. But, it felt impersonal- an admiration one might feel for a grand author or musician- beautiful, but out of reach. For me, it was a love affair slow to ignite, but once it caught fire, it was sizable and long-lasting.


Montana has undeniable romance embedded in the landscape. Who wouldn’t fall in love with the sweeping views, the drama of the mountains, the leather of a cowboy's hands tying supplies on a pack horse. I loved how easy it was to find solitude. I also couldn’t get enough of the folks I met, and Cameron was one of them. It was the strongest community I have ever been a part of, and although it dissipated rather quickly, the folks I met during that time are still some of my closest friends. Everything there was always in a state of flux for me . Against the old time ranchers scrabbling out an existence in the face of second homes and buyers from California, I was as ephemeral as the green grass that covered the hillsides briefly between the snow and the scorching dry summers. In the two years I made Bozeman my home, I lived in five different houses and worked eight different jobs.


My longest job was with the Montana Conservation Corps. I worked multiple day hitches in the backcountry, and on my days off, I liked to saunter from my trailer park over to the little café by the cow yards. I would park myself on a stool, eat breakfast, drink coffee, and gossip with my friend Angie until I could float away without touching the ground from caffeination. There were always good eggs and potatoes and a good vibe to match. Ang and the cook usually had some sultry country music playing, and the coziness offered warm respite from the chilly weather. One day Ang was listening to a tape I had made for her, and after the Cowboy Junkies lifted out of some lost in despair bass line to return to a heartrending vocal melody, the cook paused mid egg flip. “You made this tape?” he asked. In fact I had. “Oh,” he said. “I like this music, too.” There was an awkward pause, in which I was supposed to do or say something profound, but all that came out was “Yah,” an admittedly inadequate response to the hope in his voice. He went back to his egg flipping, and I went back to my coffee. Before that moment, Cameron and I had played pool, he had been in the background cooking my breakfast, and we had shared a quiet chairlift ride at the ski hill-kindling. That morning, however, I noticed him.


When I once again packed the truck to drive west, my earthly possessions no longer fit in the back. The overflow (including my one-speed blue bikey that later got nabbed off the streets of Santa Cruz) nestled in a U-haul trailer alongside the belongings of Cameron, who drove two days behind me. Luna rode with honor in his passenger seat. On my drive, I pulled over in Idaho, next to the place where the Lochsa and Selway Rivers converge to bawl my eyes out. I was once again leaving my home, but this time, part of it came with me.


Five years later, Cameron and I have made it through a move to California, two break ups, innumerable pet mishaps, my graduate degree, and many other harrows and triumphs of daily living and growing. We’ve shared countless magnificent breakfasts in the company of a myriad of beautiful friends. We have witnessed some spectacular sunsets. We have, at times, missed eachother painfully. That fire I found in Montana is still burning bright, keeping me warm with its glow, even when it coughs and sputters. I look forward to making it through whateverelse there is to come- a lifetime of it. And there will always be a seat at our table and plenty of coffee for everyone.

north of taos

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Originally uploaded by Cameron/Duff.

I hope i never forget the feeling of first being married.

Hacienda Cusin

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Originally uploaded by Cameron/Duff.

Spooky. Romantic. Big Fireplaces. Flowers. $10 litres of vino tinto. extra nice staff. very funny people. long naps. Andrea´s wedding dress. large exit bill. comfy bed. very good friends. so absoultely beautiful. somewhat magic.

Engaged in a discussion

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Originally uploaded by Cameron/Duff.

So, these folks, in my opinion, are pretty damn engaged, but according to Wendy, they are only engaged in a discussion about marriage, but they sure are cute.

A Quaker wedding in Ecuador

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Originally uploaded by Cameron/Duff.

John and Andrea had a Quaker wedding in which they married themselves, no officiant. Much of the ceremony was silent, but people spoke when moved. The whole thing was quite emotional, and I was a basket case by the end. People said such beautiful things, and there was time to really revel in their commitment, this rite of passage, the way we are growing older. I felt so much joy in watching my old friend make such a profound public commitment.

Walking on Rose Petals

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Originally uploaded by Cameron/Duff.

Finger Puppet Party Favors

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Originally uploaded by Cameron/Duff.

Unfortunately they sort of disappeared as the night wore on, but Sarah had this idea that we should do a dance where each person strides down the center in a dramatic interpretation of their particular puppet.

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Originally uploaded by Cameron/Duff.

Wedding Camp

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Originally uploaded by Cameron/Duff.

By the end of our time at Hacienda Cusin for John and Andrea´s wedding in Ecuador, we had been blessed with a scrumptious share of late nights talking, evenings dancing, delicious meals, and many stories with some of their all too terrific friends.

Amanda and Andy Bramble

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Originally uploaded by Cameron/Duff.