Snow King and Queen…
The silence only the mountain peaks can keep, the light breath of wind that accompanies the descent of the snowflakes laying down on the branches of firs.
This is the Nordic fairytale-like atmosphere we chose for our union. We said yes on the top of Apuan Alps. San Pellegrino in Alpe, the highest city in Appennines, risen in Middle Ages near the Sanctuary of San Pellegrino, was the setting of our wedding. How many time we took long excursions through those scented woods, in summer, escaping the valley’s suffocating heat and the heavy air of city’s chaos. And how many times we went back in winter, unable to stay far from those mountains for too long.
We got lost in the undergrowth covered with snow, with the cross country skis at our feet and laughing like kids even the last time. Until I stopped laughing, instantly moved when I saw that you suddenly kneeled down and gave me the ring that will shine on my finger forever. A year after, those same mountains were the majestic witnesses to the seal of the love they saw growing during these years.
The little church looked like it just came out from a Brother Grimms’ fairytale, with the fake stalactites hanging, the trunks of trees, the white flowers alternated with pine needles. Heather and hawthorn of my bouquet was enriched with crystals of blown glass. I arrived on a sled pulled by white huskies, wrapped in a fur stole, in a velvet and lace dress I dreamed of since I was a child.
Now, in the middle of our wedding lunch, I look at you as if I was in a trance while you joke with our families. My husband, I think, and I feel a lukewarm warmth inside me that doesn’t fear the snow out there. In the refuge, every detail matches the ice theme. Winter roses covered in frost and summer flowers inside ice sculptures adorn the table and, together with the light candles and the mistletoe hanging on the crackling fireplace, make the atmosphere magical but cozy.
I don’t know it it is mulled wine to be blamed or emotion, but I can’t stop laughing while we cut the cake on the lodge’s terrace, with the monumental mountains covered with snow on the background. The photographer begs us not to move too much while he tries to capture that unique moment, but you spread the cake’s cream on the tip of my nose. Everything ends up in a snowball fight with the guests, who are ready, snowshoes at their feet, to accompany us in an excursion at sunset through the paths of Passo delle Radici, where Garfagnana meets Emilia Romagna. While the sun turns the mountains pink, I know that this finishing day is actually the marvelous beginning of our life together, and I hold tight your hand wrapped in thick wool gloves.
For a further taste of romantic Tuscany, Love me in Tuscany.
The complete guide to the perfect love trip is Love me in Tuscany.