The road to Maine started in Atlanta, with my sister Kassandra and her husband Sean’s garden spilling over the fence, as the spinach grew thickly near the peppers and watermelons behind their new house.

I drove down to Atlanta after Annie and Andrew’s wedding, and then back up to New York the following day, pulling off the road for this eatery’s encouraging sign:

And then it was off to Maine, and to an island, passing the Coast Guard,

as well as bobbing boats in the harbor as I chatted with Keryn about ferries in the afternoon sun.

Keryn’s friends keep chickens, they couldn’t say exactly how many,

near beautiful male goats that perk up their ears in unison and wander toward you, bells swinging.

On Saturday afternoon, we gathered with their friends on an island beach,

and I learned how to pour coals into the rocks and set the grill cover over, and patiently wait.

As usual, it’s the guys hanging around the grill.

More friends joined us as the sun began to drop…

and there were crazy discoveries to be made in tidal pools (“Look, Mom!”)

and friendships renewed.

My friend Keryn sat serenely as the children ran about, with her usual calm that belies spontaneous dance moves that occur with some regularity while in her orbit.

I had a hard time leaving the beach, watching as we heaped the grill with seaweed, and looking back over my shoulder again at the sunset on the quiet beach.

At the farm Keryn’s friends caretake for, the sunflowers are at their height,

the garlic is drying,

and they sent us back with piles of springy rainbow chard, cucumbers, and tomatoes,

that made beautiful cucumber sandwiches and colorful couscous across the water, back on the Maine mainland, this dreamy area of the country I love to visit…

The theme was peacock feathers. And so the programs being powdered (before embossed with a special gun) were cut into feather shapes, secured with a fastener, and then decorated so they could function, cleverly, as a fan in the extreme summer heat.

That night, a few days before the wedding, my youngest sister Kassandra, returned to the house, filled with her amazing friends from all corners of the world wrapping the wedding hotel guest gifts, to regale us with stories of her own about her recent adventures with her fiancé, Sean.

Surprises dictated the week, as a dear family friend continued to cinch the wedding dress in tighter for the big occasion.

The bachelorette party, 14 strong, each shared a story over dinner; Kassandra defended, Sierra winced, and David covered his face.

Until Sierra took her turn and almost made the bride fall out of her chair with laughter.

The bachelorettes called Kassandra ‘The Tay,’ and that became the bride’s codename for the week, adorning cupcakes for the bowling party that followed dinner,

where their bowling warm-ups revealed how many dancers were in the mix.

And how many performers.

We all wore our pink sashes proudly; Kassandra has surrounded herself with a group of individuals that are delightful to be around bowling, dining, or wielding embossing guns.

(Kat took this picture and many below. I’ll indicate her photography underneath; one of her many talents is a very fine way with the camera).

And the following groggy morning (dancing continued late into the night), we all gathered at Kassandra and Sean’s beautiful new house to picnic and toast to the two days ahead.

photo by Katrina Taylor

Following the picnic, the bridal party headed over to set up the venue space and place the bride’s handmade candles and vintage cameras on the tables,

photo by Katrina Taylor

and a few hours later, the rehearsal began.

photo by Katrina Taylor

photo by Katrina Taylor

photo by Katrina Taylor

photo by Katrina Taylor

and Grampa made everyone laugh in agreement at his approval rating for the wedding.

photo by Katrina Taylor

photo by Katrina Taylor

photo by Katrina Taylor

The following morning, the bridesmaids and mother of the bride assembled in her childhood room to pin the veil,

and then we all dressed and met Kassandra, with her wonderful college roommate Caitlin doing her duty and holding the train above the grass,

photo by Katrina Taylor

while I chased antebellum umbrellas across the plantation house’s lawn,

photo by Katrina Taylor

and then dashed off to meet the talented musicians: Amber, who was also the Mistress of Reception Ceremonies (and who you will recall from family holiday videos), and my handsome Facebook husband Stewart Pillow who composes and sings. The two sing well together, which is another happy happenstance of the weekend.

Soon, it was time for Kassandra to take up her bouquet of vintage brooches that our aunt Pamela Aiken created,

photo by Courtney Rosen

and for the exchange of vows and music in a ceremony the two wrote together (including music that Sean composed and his sister played during the procession).

photo by Courtney Rosen

The bride and groom beamed at each other, at the family and friends in attendance, and then entered the hall,

photo by Courtney Rosen

and after dinner, I started the toasts (look how dashing Stewart is at his piano on the left!),

photo by Courtney Rosen

shocking the groomsmen with Kassandra’s impressive pull-up record in elementary school – proof that she has always been fierce.

photo by Courtney Rosen

The dancing went on and on, as it will in a room of dancers and instructors, and the couple ran through sparklers (note Kat’s choice of alternate fiery accessory) to pull away in a beautiful vintage car.

photo by Courtney Rosen

Happy wedding, and happy marriage, Kassandra. Know that no matter what, your bridesmaids are here for you as your special police detail…in sickness and in health, as long as we all can steal mirrored sunglasses off boys…

photo by Courtney Rosen

All the images (except those by Courtney Rosen) are in this Flickr set. Thanks to Kat for taking such stunning photos, as always, and being there for me during the week too.

On Thursday, to celebrate the last warm day of the season, I convinced Tricia, Dan, and Tarikh to picnic with me in Brooklyn’s Ft. Greene Park.

Tricia sparkled with her wonderful energy as we walked through the crunching leaves,

and met Dan at the monument, where he was waiting with his usual delicious food—

this time, veg sushi with a brilliant dipping sauce (that I sneaked extra spoonfuls of).

Tarikh biked off to find a corkscrew, and we unwrapped my picnic supplies for the occasion: quinoa with squash and harissa, rice noodles with pea shoots and mung bean sprouts tossed with the Momofuku ginger-scallion sauce, which shared plate space next to Dan’s hand-rolled sushi.

It was a day to savor and to wrest the final dregs of summer sunshine, but also a day to embrace new skills—

I am happy to note that all of our picnic was gluten-free (gfree, in common parlance) food, a personal goal for me since I met Dan this spring and learned about his impressive food that is within these parameters.

And we all embraced taking a few hours away from work in the afternoon, to laugh and talk about what the rest of the year might bring… (prediction: likely some wonderful things for these talented three friends of mine…)

A few weeks ago, my friend Fil and I drove from Brooklyn to Maine, taking an unplanned detour through New Hampshire, where we came upon this farm,

and this roadside restaurant,

which led to a tasting of grape nut ice cream,

and a bucket of native (in this area of the U.S., “native” is used for “local”) chicken and fries that really tasted like potatoes.

Shortly before our destination, we celebrated crossing into Maine with lobster rolls,

and shortly after, we hugged our friends in Camden, watching the light play off the water at a big dinner at a lake house with wonderful people we cannot see often enough.

When I am in Maine, I usually wake with the sun in Keryn and Mike’s cheery sunroom, looking up at the star lanterns and daydreaming about how long I could extend my stay.

When Fil woke we ventured to my favorite store of local products, Farmer’s Fare, and went silent sitting outside, rapt with the crunchy crust of their focaccia,

and the glorious raw milk of my favorite dairy producer in the area, Keene’s.

We made our way to the Camden harbor a bit later, napping in the sun as all good long weekends away require,

and waking, we followed Keryn and our friend Emily to Harbor Dogs,

home of the dog with apple chutney (very good),

and a solid fish taco.

Emily surprised us with an invitation to take our lunch to her family’s boat docked in the harbor,

and she skillfully maneuvered us onto the dock next to the gleaming hull,

and we had such a fun hour talking and laughing in the shiny interior.

For our afternoon adventure, Fil and I decided since everyone had told us we had to visit Beth’s, we should drive out to this expansive market full of local food, (after a brief photo shoot on the lawn with a photographer who approached us admiring Fil’s jaunty hat).

Marveling at the piles of garlic,

enchanted by the fancy cream,

delighted by the real popcorn, we threaded our way down each aisle, stopping to read the signs with personality and stocking up on bacon.

That night, we went to the new Shepherd’s Pie restaurant in Rockport,

and Keryn joined us after a first round of blueberry-rosemary gin cocktails,

and rosy oysters,

leading us around the harbor and back to the house, where we rested for another day of Maine adventures…

Sunday morning began with my sister Kassandra waking early and a trip to the grocer near my apartment for a few brunch things—some housemade sun-dried tomatoes to go with fresh pear tomatoes, arugula, and buffalo mozzarella (that’s the white) on top of a frittata,

and sugar plums from Red Jacket Orchards that exude a glossy syrup when roasted.

Catching up with my friend Solana over brunch (I’m happy she’s back in Brooklyn) filled my kitchen with laughter, and then she was off into her day, followed by Kassandra, who I see all too infrequently, leaving to drive to Philadelphia for her flight (she was in NJ this week setting a choreography and spontaneously rented a car to drive up for the weekend).

In the quiet kitchen, I turned to making a goat cheese cake for Tricia and Kenyatta‘s afternoon picnic, letting it cool by the open window,

before slicing figs across the top and drizzling it with honey from Brooklyn bees.

Arriving at Fort Greene Park, I found a sprawling group of artists, librarians, researchers, and videographers, everyone new to me and—unsurprisingly for friends of Tricia and Kenyatta—fascinating and creative.

The gracious Tricia poured me a mimosa and smiled with Kenyatta, who was in the center of the group, as I found an unoccupied patch of blanket.

The cake went quickly,

with the beautiful Elle waiting patiently, entranced by squirrels, before neatly nabbing the last slice,

and all too soon, it was time to fold the blankets—like Audrey, I wondered why summer Sundays ever have to end—

but then again, how nice it was to have spent the afternoon reveling with this crew…

More fun images and video in Tricia’s Flickr set—