At my daughter's wedding one of her friends sang this song. It was even more beautiful in an outdoor surrounding. The girl's clear beautiful voice had the rippling of a running stream behind her. All the flowers of spring had popped out, hyacinth, daffodil, red buds. It was like they waited for that day to bloom. It was beautiful.
The piper in his kilt came from Tulsa and when he
began to play from atop a small knoll everyone from over the large park came to the wedding site as if being called there by the bagpipes.
My daughter in a soft satin dress I made for her trailed down the stone steps on her father's arm from the very large shelter house also of stone.
On the steps leading the bride our little flower girl was in a long white satin dress and carried a small red Bible just the color of her lips. Her black soft curls fell so beautifully against white skin.
A strip of the red tartan from my grandmother, Bellzona's, things decorated the table. A friend, Frances McHaffety, who owned a flower shop brought a small arrangement of flowers to top the tiered wedding cake as her Scot people had always done.
After the cake was cut folks from the Anglo culture were surprised to recieve gifts. My brother, Dan, who wore the traditional Ponca hair of braids spoke and explained our custom of giving gifts.
Those were the days of love, hope, promise, joy all things bright and beautiful It brings a tear to my eye to remember.
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