Today is our 12th wedding anniversary. Jacqueline Helms and I were married outdoors in a small woodland north of our little farmhouse on Mikinaak Creek, about two o’clock in the afternoon, with Teresa McDonnell officiating; her husband Joe McDonnell freezing.
 

We had warned everyone on our guest list to dress warm for the occasion, for forecasts of December 31st, in Roseau County, Minnesota, are usually frigid and we didn’t expect anything else. High temps were  to be in the single digits Fahrenheit, with 20 mph wind gusts that insured brisk double-digit negative wind chills -- so we weren’t disappointed.
 

Ever vigilant against the real threat of hypothermia, the bride wore a smart form-fitting black snowmobile suit with vented bodice and midriff, reflective red piping along the top of the sleeves; a rabbit-fur lined purple Minnesota Vikings bomber hat adorned her head protecting her ears and forehead from possible frostnip; wool felt-lined purple Sorel boots and merino-wool socks protected her delicate feet from irreversible frostbite damage. She wore wool finger-gloves inside of suede moose-hide choppers (mittens) an early wedding present from me, because I didn't have the heart to subject my new bride to the harshness of a Minnesota winter on this of all days. (Besides, she needed the use of all her fingers to wash dishes the following day when we cleaned up.)
 

As the ever style-conscientious color-coordinated groom, I wore my best green wool bibs under my green Carhartt coat; no hood. Atop my head, as a colorful accent, I wore a classic  black and red plaid, faux wool, double earflap cap with tie-over; the exterior flaps down (for better wedding-night take-offs; touch and go’s. Whoo whoo!) Of course, on my feet, nothing less than wool-felt lined LaCrosse Icemans with leather uppers and rubber soles (when they were still made in the USA) in forest green.
 

Neighbors and friends began driving in, the snowpack making that horrendous scrunching noise as they found a place to park. Doors opened and closed loudly the sound traveling distinctly across distances as noises do in our virtual arctic region. Rugged Carhartt insulated denim chore coats (obviously recently used for farm chores) and leather bomber hats, insulated gloves; knee-high Muck boots, old army coats and John Deere seed caps (no ear protection/Jerry Solom); snowmobile jackets, bibs and boots, stocking caps, facemasks, warm scarves and baclavas.
 

Two guests arrived together, late, just as we were beginning the long arduous hike into the woods; the rising smoke from our campfire marking the way beneath the boughs of our so-dubbed ‘wedding oak’ that we had made a path around. 

 

Our baskets of gifts for our guests and personal items we would exchange with one another during our wedding vows as we stood together beneath a large Star blanket, sat in the snow. One of the late-comers thought to bring a winter coat, the other was dressed like she was going into a nice warm church; a skirt, short jacket, scarf and street shoes. We found some warmer clothes for them just in time.
 

Our wedding was our own statement of commitment to one another, as older adults, from here on out, despite the hardships we knew we faced. We utilized some indigenous themes that we thought were respectfully appropriate being that we were outdoors where creatures great and small may be witnessing our behaviors (and wishing we’d all just go back to the house and leave the woods to them.) Which we did soon enough.
 

After a wedding reception at Cafe 89 in Wannaska, Orlin Ostby and his family graciously invited the wedding party and guests to his farm near Gatzke for a wedding night hayrack ride pulled by oxen and horses. Of course we knew one of the oxen pretty good, “Pum,” whom we walked beside for over two hundred miles on the Pembina and Woods Trails all the way to St. Paul from Pembina North Dakota that summer for Minnesota’s Sesquicentennial.
 

Teresa and Joe chose not to attend as Joe had become quite chilled during the wedding ceremony. Being a native of Boston his blood wasn’t up to the task of enduring yet another rollicking good time in the snow and under the stars under buffalo robes and wool blankets, though the two late-comers Barb Jensen and Elvera Cullen, did, snug as bugs in rugs.
 

Love you Jackie!