For months and months I posted, wrote and talked about my sister’s upcoming wedding. Then it happened and you heard no more from me about it, which could lead you, dear reader, to conclude that it must have been a bit of a let down. Well, I’m going to have to put things straight. The wedding was fabulous. Most definitely Insta-worthy and very much Pin-tastic, but also highly emotional. Quite simply, the best wedding I have been to since my own.

My sister and her husband, then fiance, decided to hold the wedding reception in the garden of our family home. Anyone who knows me reasonably well will know that the house I lived in from the winter’s day I was brought home from hospital until I left for university holds a very special place in my heart. During my childhood our home held many a party – our baptisms, birthdays, communions and confirmations were celebrated there with all the family. On New Year’s Eve my parents, for years, held an annual party for friends. Our 21st birthdays were celebrated there too. I gatecrashed my sister’s party, arriving home from Australia as a surprise.  Then, almost three years ago now, my sister and I held a joint baptism party at the house for her eldest child and my youngest. So, not only was my one and only sister and my youngest sibling getting married, she was doing so at one of my very favourite places in this whole world.

The run up to the wedding, as can be expected, was busy and stressful, not least for the bride and groom and my dad. Being bridesmaid, I was determined to get my act together and be as helpful and organised as could be. Seeing all the hard work that my sister, her husband and my dad had put into making the house and garden look their best, it hit me that arriving on the scene three days before the wedding I wasn’t going to be a huge amount of use.While I couldn’t do as much as I’d have liked to be able to do, I did at least manage to make it to the wedding ceremony before shedding a tear and I brought Prosecco for the wedding breakfast. With my hair and make up done, I grabbed my camera and took a quiet stroll round the house and garden to marvel at the beautiful changes to my childhood home. I say childhood home but, really, it is still my hom and always will be, no matter how long I live in Germany.

As I say, in the months coming up to the wedding, the house and garden underwent a lot of work. All those jobs that had been put on the long finger for years finally got done, and more besides. My dad refuses to believe that a Mediterranean lifestyle is impossible in Ireland and, to be perfectly honest, he has done an amazing job of making a garden in Meath rival any Tuscan villa. The house, garden and even the shed made the perfect backdrop for a relaxed, stylish garden wedding.

I’ve mentioned here on the blog before that there is a renovated barn in the garden running as a holiday home. Given that the accommodation sleeps two and is set in the garden, just a few feet from the marquee, it made the perfect honeymoon suit.

I could post hundreds of photos here about the day. Everything looked beautiful and by and large things ran smoothly. I could go into the full details of planning and organising a home wedding, but to be honest I think that’s best left in the very capable hands of my sister. If I can convince her, there’ll be a post up sometime on the do and don’ts of wedding planning. Picking a bridesmaid who lives in a different country and cries at the drop of a hat *may* feature in the don’t list, but it is a risk I am willing to take.