Matt DeGuise and I have been hanging out since elementary school. Being a traitor, he left Minnesota for Denver a few years back, and I've only seen him a few times since. Matt may have left God's country for the thin-aired west, but he's still a taciturn Midwesterner by heart, or perhaps DNA. In fact, he'll go long stretches of time without speaking at all. Never enough will be said about the rounding capabilities of attraction, as Matt's new wife, Darcy, is one of the most gregarious souls I've ever met.
Last month the two of them put together the most fantastic wedding I've ever had the privilege of attending, and furthermore, photographing. They wrote their own vows for the pithy outdoor ceremony. The grub was highlighted with juicy bison tenderloin. The bar was open. There was even a touring bluegrass band, Hot Buttered Rum, playing the reception. Maybe best of all was the setting. Along a mountain river, at the foot of a 13,900 foot mountain, in the midst of fields of wildflowers, my good friends wed.
